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Thread: Watching Brad

  1. #101
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil -

    I just posted last night too, but find myself compelled to post again. I think I am going to have to side with Chaz - you truly are blessed in your story telling, and should find a professional outlet for your writing(s). I find myself rushing home to check the board to see if you have posted a new chapter, and am always elated to find a new chapter posted. I have read a few stories on this board, and usually I lose interest in them quickly as the outcome is more often than not predictable. But each time your added post(s) throws a new curve on the plot. BRAVO!!

    This story is refreshing and enlightening. I think in this day and age our ability to obtain instant gratification, chivalry and TRUE LOVE very often get passed by, or worse yet, neglected. I've been single for two years now after a 13 year relationship, and I so long for what you have created between Ted and Brad. Maybe I am being too over zealous, or wishing upon that star too drastically, but damnit I want that... Maybe it is something we all desire (I hope...)

    I don't usually post much, I more of a lurker, but on those few occasions I find a post or whatever, I let the originator know my gratitude for their efforts. You have ignited a glimmer of hope in my heart that there is someone out there... Sorry to write such a dreary post in this wonderful story, but I just had to get it off my chest.

    Thank you again for such an outstanding story. Keep up the GREAT WORK!!!

    "Sometimes you have to take things the way they are, not the way you want them to be or the way they could have been, and sometimes it turns out that what you thought you really wanted, is nothing compared to what you get ..."

    I can't recall where I found that, nor who said it, but I thought it fit really well here for some reason...

    Well, off of my soapbox for now -take care of yourself Neil, you'll be in my thoughts. Be well...

    -Brad (yes, that is my name, how ironic, eh? )

  2. #102

    Re: Watching Brad

    This story is really fantastic. I just can't stop reading it. You are really a good writer. This story has a really different and nice approach that I haven't seen before. Love it.

  3. #103

    Re: Watching Brad

    bhtupstateny is a mind reader he said just everything I wanted to say. I'm on cloud nine and get the warm fuzzies all over while reading a new chapter. All good things must come to an end but this story are one of those you wish would not.

    Neil your story is a work of art. Thanks so much for writing it.

  4. #104
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by glueyou
    Fine story with all sorts of Canadian content.

    Is it set in Oshawa or Ajax? Ajax had the largest ammunition manufacturing installation on earth during WWII. Now they make...Timbits. Progress to be sure.
    I don't know where it's set. I've left that intentionally vague, mainly because my knowledge of Oshawa or Ajax or even Courtice or Bowmanville are equally vague.

    I'll let you in on a little secret. Something happened at the end of Chapter 15 and throughout Chapter 16. I'm writing Chapter 17 and I'm having trouble dealing with it. I wasn't sure I could. But I was awake for a long time last night thinking about it. I've decided to 'let it happen' and deal with it in future chapters. I'm really not sure I like it, and I don't want to scrap all that writing.

    We don't get the chance to hit 'Select All' and 'Delete' and do it all again. Ted and Brad shouldn't have that chance, either. Like it or hate it, it's going to happen and they will deal with it. I just don't know what's going to happen to them now. (You'll get a hint tomorrow. . . if I don't change my mind in the meantime.)

  5. #105
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    Re: Watching Brad

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XIV

    Brad smiled and blushed when he saw the pile of items. I mean, he really blushed! His neck, his face, his ears. . . everything! And he had one of the most adorable, embarrassed smiles on his face I've ever seen. I saw it all from the side. He couldn't even look at me.

    I had to smile, too.

    He looked up at me, the smile still plastered on his face and his face still bright pink in the day's fading light. He looked away again. I could see his shoulders bouncing up and down as he giggled to himself. "I think we should go shopping for some cowbells," he said.

    That did it. I started laughing out loud. I couldn't help it. I tried to stop it, to keep Brad from hurting himself, but I couldn't. I got up and walked into the house, leaving Brad sitting there, holding his hand over his incision. Tears were rolling down my face and I went to the bathroom to try to calm myself down. It took some time, but I managed to do it somehow. I washed my face with cold water, patted it dry, and went back out to sit with Brad again.

    He was still smiling as he watched me cross the grass.

    I sat beside him. "Are you okay?"

    "Yeah," he said. "It didn't hurt much."

    "I wonder what he thought when he saw us?"

    "I don't know, but I bet Mom's in there right now wondering if we're going to register with Zellers or Canadian Tire."

    I almost had to go into the house again, but I bit my lip until the urge passed. We were quiet for awhile. I pulled out another cigarette, looked at it, put it back into the package and put it into my pocket.

    Still, we sat quietly, Brad looking at the grass and me sipping my beer. It was a quiet night. Only the evening birds singing and insect sounds. A cricket chirped somewhere behind us. It was nice.

    Brad's voice boomed like thunder in the silence, but it was barely loud enough for me to hear it. "I'd like to stay with you tonight, Ted."

    I looked at him. He kept staring at the grass, and then he turned his head to look at me, waiting for my answer.

    I asked a question of my own instead. "What about your parents?"

    "Dad brought me clean underwear for the morning," he said. "They don't expect me to go home tonight."

    What in hell had I done to have this amazing man dropped into my lap? And why had I fallen head over heals in love with him? I didn't know. I didn't even want to know. I didn't care.

    "I'd like that," I told him just as softly.

    It was still early. The sun was hidden behind the house now, probably sitting on the horizon, ready to go to bed. That's where I suddenly wanted to be - in bed with Brad. But Brad had different plans. He slid closer to me until our arms and sides were touching. He reached out and put his left hand on my arm. His head tilted to rest against my shoulder.

    I brought my left arm around behind him so I could hold him. Brad settled closer to me, his shoulder under my arm and his head resting against my collar. His left hand, now lonely with no arm to hold onto, settled onto my chest close to his face. His arm rested against my chest and stomach. I held tightly to him, the way I hold Lindsay when we're alone and watching television together. I kissed Brad's hair like I always kissed Lindsay. Except for Lindsay, I had never felt more comfortable with anyone else in my life than Brad.

    We just sat like that. Nothing was said. Nothing was done. We just sat there as it got darker and darker. At first, I thought it was my imagination. It took some time for me to realize that my shirt was getting wet in one tiny spot. It took me longer to realize that it must be tears from Brad's eyes.

    "Brad?" I asked softly. "Are you okay?"

    He didn't move. "I don't know," he said gently. "I feel different. I feel all warm and full inside. I feel like you've reached right inside me and you're hugging me in there, too. I feel safe and I feel wanted." He lifted his head and looked into my eyes, half confusion, half sorrow, and still another half happy. His eyes were very moist. "Is this what love feels like, Ted?"

    "Yes, Brad, it is."

    He looked at me for awhile, then settled his head back in place and took a deep breath and let it out again. "Then I'm okay," he said.

    * * * * *

    I was awake when the doorbell rang. I'd been awake for awhile, thinking about the night before. I'd helped Brad into the house, carrying his things in one hand. I took him to the bathroom first, and said that I was going to lock up and shut out the lights, but he asked me to stay. He stood in front of the toilet, opened his robe, and pushed down his underwear, letting his cock roll out. I looked this time. I wasn't distracted by the bandage covering his incision.

    His cock was thick, even when soft, hanging down more than twice the distance mine does. A lot more. He grasped it in his fingers and his piss started to flow. When I think back on it now, I'm surprised that he was so comfortable with me standing right beside him. But I digress. No, I don't, because I still have no idea why I did what I did. I reached out my hand and held him in my fingers. He stopped peeing for only a moment, then started again and moved his hand away. I could feel his cock living, doing what it does. I could feel the fluid flowing through it and I could feel the blood pulsing with every beat of his heart. It was warm and it was wonderful. I could feel his balls against the back of my fingers, and they were just as warm and wonderful.

    I watched as the piss became a dribble, and then it stopped entirely. I waited a moment, and then I gave the shaft a stroke from base to head, like I do my own, and gave it a shake. The last drops splashed into the toilet. I released it, grasped the waistband of his underwear, and pulled it out and up, covering him back up once again. I flushed the toilet as Brad reached into his briefs to move his cock to where he needed it to be.

    Brad stirred at the sound of the doorbell and looked up at me. He was still where he had been when he fell asleep. . . on me. He had to sleep on his left side this time, unlike the time in the hotel in Mississauga, but he'd used my chest as a pillow all night long.

    The doorbell rang again. "Be right back," I said. I crawled out of the other side of the bed, grabbed my robe, and pulled it on as I hurried down the hall. Bernice was walking away but stopped and came back when I opened the door. She had a large bed tray in her hands. You know, the ones with the drop-down legs.

    "I'm sorry," she apologized, "did I wake you?"

    "No, but you woke up Brad."

    "Time he was awake anyway," she said. "I've brought him his breakfast. There's enough for you, too."

    "Thanks," I said, reaching for the tray.

    "Could I give it to him, please?" she asked sheepishly. "I want to see that he's okay."

    "Of course," I said, smiling. I stepped back and let her come in.

    I pointed the way with my extended hand. Down the hall at the end. I closed the door, then followed Bernice down the hall. "Right across from Lindsay's room," I said.

    Brad was sitting up against the headboard when we entered the bedroom. His bandage and the waistband of his underwear peeked out from under the sheets. There were two clicks an the legs of the tray dropped down into place. Bernice approached the side of the bed and placed the tray over Brad's legs. I stood back and waited.

    "Good morning, Bradley," she said and bent down to give him a kiss.

    "Hi, Mom."

    "Did you sleep okay?"

    "I slept fine, Mom."

    She smiled at him. "Did you take your pill last night?" Brad nodded. "What about this morning?"

    "I just woke up."

    "First things first, then. Where are they?" she asked, looking around.

    "On the table," I offered.

    She found them, popped off the top and dropped an antibiotic into her hand. She closed the lid after visually counting the remaining pills and set it back. "Open," she said as she picked up the pill. Brad already had a glass of orange juice in his hand. He opened his mouth and she popped the pill on his tongue. Brad washed it down with a good gulp of the juice. He set the glass on the tray.

    Bernice slid down on the bed a bit, called my name, then patted the space beside Brad with her hand. I sad down as instructed. She looked at us both, and then at Brad. "Bradley? Your Dad saw you and Ted last night."

    "We know," Brad answered.

    "Are you happy, dear?" she asked.

    Brad looked at me and smiled, then he turned back to his Mother. "Yes, Mom. I am."

    Bernice looked at me and I nodded my answer. To Brad, she asked, "Is this what you really want, Bradley?"

    Brad was quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure yet, Mom. All I know is that I'm very happy."

    She patted his thigh twice. "That's good enough for us, then. Now, eat your breakfast. When you're done, change your underwear. I'll pick it up when I come to get the tray, and I'll bring you some clean ones for tomorrow. Would you like me to bring some clothes for you, too?"

    "We're not going anywhere," I said.

    "Okay. I'll bring some anyway, just in case you decide to go for a ride or something." She put her hand on my leg for balance and leaned forward to give Brad his kiss. She surprised me by giving me one as well. She stood up to leave.

    "Mom?"

    She turned back.

    "I love you."

    "I love you, too, Bradley." To me, she said, "I'll come back in an hour to get the tray. Would you like me to bring some lunch as well?"

    "I think I can handle lunch."

    "Okay," she said. With one final, stern look at Brad, she said, "Now, you be a good boy and eat all your breakfast. I'll be bringing your toothbrush back with me. Make sure you use it." And to me, she added, "And you make sure he doesn't just run it under the water and make it wet."

    She left the room. I looked at Brad and he looked at me. Together, we smiled and said, "Mothers."

    As we were munching on breakfast - which was delicious, by the way - Brad asked, "Are your parents still alive?"

    "Yup," I answered. "They live in Crystal Beach."

    "Where's that?"

    "Near St. Catherines."

    "Never been there. Never been to Niagara Falls, either."

    "Well, we'll have to fix that. Lindsay loves it there. When you're up to it, we can all go for a weekend."

    "Oh," Brad said, putting his piece of toast back on the plate.

    "‘Oh' what?" I asked.

    "Nothing."

    I'm not dumb. It knew it was ‘something'.

    "Brad?" My voice told him he'd better talk or else.

    He shrugged one shoulder, but wouldn't look away from the plate. "Well, Niagara Falls is one of the most romantic places in the world. I wanted to go there with you." He paused. "Alone." Only then would he look at me.

    "Okay," I said. "We will. Just you and me."

    And then he smiled. I was happy to see his chipped tooth again.

    * * * * *

    We were in the livingroom watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off on DVD when Bernice came back for the tray. I hoped Cameron could hold his breath, because I hit the ‘pause' button when he was sitting on the bottom of the swimming pool. I'd washed all the dishes for Bernice and Brad's underwear was rolled up in a plastic baggie. As promised, she brought Brad's toothbrush along with three pairs of shorts, three T-shirts, and three sets of socks and underwear.

    "I'm not moving in, Mom," Brad complained. His mother was sitting on the sofa beside him.

    "They'll be here in case you need them. You can leave them here and you don't have to come running home all the time to change."

    "I'll be coming home again, Mom."

    Bernice pinched his cheek. "Children grow up and leave home. It's the law." Brad gave his Mother a big hug and a big, wet, smacking kiss on the cheek.

    * * * * *

    Matthew Broderick had told us, "It's over! Go home!" Well, we were already home, so we went to the bathroom instead so Brad could brush his teeth and give himself a wash.

    "I'll be glad when I can take a shower again. Washing in the sink like this sucks."

    "When will that be?"

    "I have an appointment with the doctor on Tuesday afternoon at three."

    "How are you getting there?"

    "Dad will take the time off from work. Mom doesn't drive."

    I accepted that, but I couldn't accept what I was seeing without getting an answer to my question. "How can you be so shy and still stand there washing your balls with me right beside you?"

    He looked down at himself, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing. He looked at me then, and I could see him considering it as if he'd never even thought about it.

    "I don't know," he said. "I've never even thought about it before."

    Gee-sus, Murphy, I'm good!

    "I mean," he continued, "this seems right somehow. I don't feel shy around you. It's not like I'm showing off or anything. It just seems. . . right. Natural. Why, is it wrong? I'll stop if it is."

    "No," I hastened to respond. "It's just surprising, that's all."

    "You're different, Ted," he said. "I mean, I'm standing here in front of you and I'm stark naked and you're looking me in the eyes."

    I looked down.

    "See?" he said. I looked back up. "I had to remind you. That's why I feel so comfortable around you. You see me, not just my dick."

    "Isn't that what I said to you last night? You thought I didn't love you anymore because I didn't look at it."

    Brad looked off into space somewhere for a moment. "I hope I can figure all this out soon. My brain's getting a stomach ache."

    * * * * *

    Brad stayed with me the entire weekend and it was great. We made tentative plans for the next weekend to go to Toronto to drop off his books at Ryerson, pop in to see Warren and Bill, then hit the Science Centre in the afternoon. As long as Brad felt up to it then. I felt sad when I walked him home Monday morning before I left for work.

    He kissed me before we left my house to go to his. Bernice met us at the door. Brad pulled me inside so he could kiss me again. "All the good days you've given me don't add up to this weekend, Ted."

    "It was pretty good, wasn't it?"

    "You don't even know, do you?"

    I thought. Nothing. "No. What don't I know?"

    "You didn't go out to the wall for two whole days."

    I thought again. "You're right." I pulled the package of cigarettes from my pocket. I looked at it, then held it out to Bernice. She took it. "Would you toss these for me, please?"

    She took the package with an anxious smile. "I'd be happy to, Ted."

    "I'll see you after work," Brad said.

    "I'm meeting Jacob for dinner. I don't know when I'll be home."

    "I can wait for you."

    "Bradley Nelson Hayes!" Yup. Mom again, and she was ticked. "You just spent the weekend over there. Don't be a pest and give the poor man a rest."

    Brad gave me the saddest look when he looked back at me. "Am I really becoming a pest?"

    "Not at all. Put the coffee on for me."

    His smile returned and he kissed me once more.

    "I've got to go," I said. So I did. I felt good as I walked to the car. Brad had spent the whole weekend with me and I had spent most of the weekend without a cigarette dangling out of my mouth. I didn't miss the cigarettes. But I missed Brad already.

    * * * * *

    Okay, how do I put this in words? I'm not sure. My entire life had changed this past little while. It was a life I never imagined. My weekend with Brad was sort of a ‘test run'. And it had worked. Was I gay? I still don't know to this day. I don't even know what it means to be gay. I thought I did, but I don't. I mean, Warren said it all. Love doesn't look at gender. So, why should we stick a label on it when it happens?

    All I know is that I was head-over-heals in love with Brad. But, the stupid thing was, we spent all that time together and the thought of sex hardly ever came up. That was strange, at least to me.

    You see, I've always acquainted love with sex. Love - sex. Sex - love. They went together. They belonged together. But Brad brought out deep, deep feelings from inside me that I'd never felt before. Brad was important to me. Not as important as Lindsay. No-one could ever stand higher than her. But Brad was far more important than anyone else, and all those girls and ladies I'd dated when I was younger - the ones I had thought I was in love with - were never as important as Brad.

    Maybe Warren was right about me. Maybe I had always been so deep in the closet that I didn't even know I was in there. Maybe this was what my life was meant to be. Maybe Brad was meant to open the door and show me the way.

    I knew what guys did together. I may have been in the closet, but I didn't live under a rock. I knew all about sucking cocks and fucking asses and all that stuff. With Brad, that didn't really scare me. What really scared me, though, was what it would do to me.

    I mean, Brad's big. Really big. The thought of getting fucked up the ass didn't scare me. The though of getting fucked by Brad scared the living hell out of me. And the thought of trying to cram that thing in my mouth. . .

    You know? That bothered me for the longest time, thinking that way. And I finally figured it out when I remembered a dream I had a long time ago. Brad and I were together in my dream and we were naked and in bed. I'd already fucked him, but when he tried to fuck me, he didn't even get the head inside me before I was screaming to take it back out. He'd cried in my dream, but it didn't click until I remembered it. He'd turned away from me when he cried. He wouldn't let me see him. I couldn't touch him, either, to comfort him and apologize to him. I mean, I reached out to touch him, but there was this wall around him and I couldn't. It didn't click until I realized I was the one holding the mortar and trowel. I was the one who had built the wall around him.

    I wasn't frightened for myself as much as I was frightened for Brad. How would he feel if that really happened? How would he feel if he felt like he was some mutant monster who went around hurting people and they built walls around him to protect themselves from him? How would he feel when the man he loved wouldn't allow him to do it?"

    Sex was supposed to be fun. . . pleasurable. How could Brad ever have sex if he caused so much pain? He wouldn't. He'd resigned himself to his own hand and his own lips and that was going to be his sex life.

    If I really loved him, could I allow that to happen to him?

    Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted de Villiers. You're up to your ass in it now. Literally!

    To Be Continued

  6. #106
    HUGS! ;-)
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Man! I've got to give Bernice, and John, a HUGE !!

    Brad and Ted get !!!

    And, YOU, Neil ... well ... "We" don't seem to have a big enough Smilie for it!!! :thewave:

    So ... I had to use ALL those!!!

    Keep smiln'!!
    Chaz
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  7. #107
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by biKCboy
    If you plan on parking the H1 Hummer in the garage, you either have to make some space, or build a bigger building.
    Man! What a line! I wish I had thought of it!

  8. #108
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by biKCboy
    I won't sue you for copyright, you're welcome to use it. lol.
    You probably won't believe this, but this line comes at the perfect moment. I'm at the exact spot where it will fit in perfectly. I'll write it in now. Watch for it in Chapter 18.

    Thanks.

  9. #109
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil, what a great guy you are, & what a stupendous story.
    You hinted at things to come & said the tale has a life of it's own.
    This is surely what happens with all the very best stories & authors.
    Not everything works out in life as we want it to, I wonder where this is leading,
    can't wait for the next chapter.
    Take care of yourself
    Peace & Love
    Harry XX

  10. #110
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil,

    It just keeps getting better! Thanks again for a great story and can't wait to see what happens.

  11. #111
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    Re: Watching Brad

    (Due to my ‘dealing with it' post from this morning, I would like you to know that this chapter is not changed. I didn't rewrite it, nor do I intend to rewrite the following chapters. This is how I wrote it originally, despite the opening paragraph which may indicate otherwise. - Neil)

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XV

    Okay. I've been honest with you up to now. I've told you everything worth knowing about me and Brad. I've left out all the boring bits and the stuff that doesn't matter, but I've told you everything else. So, at this point, I should tell you about ‘my little secret'. But I won't. I almost did. I mean, I had it all written down and I decided I'd keep it a surprise, so I rubbed it all out and started writing again. Brad didn't even know about it yet at this time, so I don't think it's fair that you should know before he did. But don't worry. The minute I tell him, you'll know, too.

    Hey. What can I say, eh? Some days life just shits on you, and this is one of those days. Get over it.

    Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Jacob, Brad and his stitches, Ryerson, Science Centre. Right. Okay. Here we go.

    Jacob blew me away. I don't know how he found all the babysitters. I didn't ask. All I know is that he found them and interviewed most of them and had a list of all those who would be willing to testify at the custody hearing, or, at the very least, would supply the necessary notarized statements.

    Lindsay had only three sitters with me: a young lady named Lisa, who adored Lindsay but had married and moved to Vancouver, and Mrs. ‘Goodyear Grinch/Gulch' Grange. Understandably, old Lard Ass refused an interview. (Or, maybe Jacob refused to interview her, I don't know.) But Lisa was willing to fly to Ontario if I helped with plane fare in order for her to testify in my defense. She couldn't afford it on her own. And now, there was Terry.

    (As it turned out, I called my lawyer the next morning. He assured me notarized statements would suffice, but the more I could get, the better. It's doubtful the Judge would read them all, but the stack would be impressive. Jacob would get as many as he could get, including Lisa's.)

    I'd lost count of all the sitters The Bitch had hired. Most of them had quit. The others were fired. Jacob had stopped at a dozen, but he said there were others on the list if I needed them. He showed me a photo album of all the men The Bitch had been seeing. The list was almost as long as the babysitter list.

    Jacob gave me a list of his expenses. It was pitifully small. "Sorry, Jacob," I said. "Two hundred dollar minimum." I wrote him a cheque right in the restaurant and he gave me a receipt listing his expenses. It was worth every single penny.

    * * * * *

    It was pissing down rain when we left the restaurant. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the skin. Just running from the restaurant to my car and from my car to my house. Man! It was pissin' rain! Crack out the ark, boys!

    Brad was waiting for me and the coffee was on. "Freeze right there, Mister!" he said and told me I wasn't going to be tracking all that water though the house.

    "It's my house. I can piss on the floor if I want."

    "Not while I'm here," he said. "Now, get them off."

    I did my best soggy St. Bernard imitation and shook myself. Water droplets flew everywhere and then, with my best Lindsay imitation, I stuck my tongue out at him.

    "Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," he said with mock chagrin. "Is it always so hard to get you out of your clothes? Man!"

    I started laughing. I couldn't help it. And Brad laughed right along with me. "I'll get your robe for you," he said as he laughed.

    I was unbuttoning my shirt when he left. By the time he got back, I was taking off my pants. Brad had brought back a towel as well.

    "Do suit pants shrink?" he asked.

    "I don't know," I answered, "but these ones keep getting tighter around the waist every day."

    "Timbit tummy," Brad said with a grin and a wink.

    Yeah. Guess I'd better lay off them for awhile, especially since I wasn't sucking back on cigarettes anymore. Quitting smoking can make you go blimpo in no time at all.

    So, there I was, down to my underwear. Even they were soggy. Brad was still standing there, watching me, looking down. He wasn't laughing anymore. I reached for my robe.

    "Take them off," Brad said quietly, his eyes travelling up to meet mine. "I've never seen you naked," he said. "I'd like to see you naked." He waited, and so did I. "Please?"

    How could I resist those beautiful, green eyes? How could I resist that beautiful face? His lips parted slightly and there was that chipped tooth. I melted.

    I was a little self-conscious about standing there naked in front of him. Not really shy, just self- conscious. Brad had a body. I just had a body. It held my guts together, that's all. Nothing to look at as far as I was concerned. But, Brad wanted to see what he was getting into. I had seen him starkers and it was only fair that he should see me, too. I was taking a big chance. This could end our relationship right here and now. I might end up with another puddle of puke on the floor. Well, better now than later when ‘letting go' would be a lot tougher to do.

    I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pushed, stepping out of them when they hit the floor. I stood up and waited. Brad's eyes started at my face and travelled slowly down. He reached my crotch and he stopped. And then he turned away and hung his head.

    "I'm getting hard, Ted," he said. "It hurts when I get hard."

    I could see his shoulders rising and falling as he controlled himself. I grabbed the towel, gave myself a quick wipe, then slipped into my robe, wrapping the towel around my neck to dry my hair. Brad set about preparing two mugs of coffee. I grabbed up my clothes and took them into the dining room, laying them over the chair backs to dry. I was towelling my hair dry when I went to join Brad.

    Brad moved in and settled himself beside me. I set the towel aside and wrapped my arm around his shoulder and he settled in closer.

    "What if it doesn't work, Ted?"

    Okay, I was lost again.

    "The sex, I mean. What if we try it and we can't do it?"

    "Does that scare you?"

    Brad pulled away and turned to look at me. "No. Not me," he said. "But it scares me when I think about you."

    "Me? Why?"

    "I don't want to hurt you. Ever."

    I gave him my best smile, despite the serious look on his face. "I know you'd never hurt me."

    He shook his head so slightly I barely saw it move. "You're wrong, Ted. I will. I've been thinking about this for awhile now. I think about the things we can do together, and I think of all the things I want to do for you and of all the things I want you to do for me. You don't scare me, Ted. I scare myself."

    "I'm not sure I understand." I really didn't. I had an idea, but I wasn't certain.

    He looked down at the floor and it looked like he was trying to find the words he needed to say hidden in the carpet. I let him search on his own. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn't look at me, though. "I'm like any other guy my age. I think about having sex sometimes. I know what two guys do together, and I want to do them with you." And then he looked at me. "But it scares me, Ted. It scares me that I'll hurt you, and I know I will. I'm too big to do all the things I want to do without hurting you." He paused, then whispered, "You know it, too."

    I smiled at him again and brushed my hand through his hair. He watched my eyes and I put as much honesty and sincerity in them as I could. "You're too young to know this, Brad. This is all new to you, but you'll understand one day. That's all part of what being in love is all about. You do things not because you have to, but because you want to. It scares the hell out of me, too. It terrifies me, in fact, when I think of what it would be like."

    Brad leaned back and turned all sad on me again. I pulled my hand away. I sensed that he needed me not to be touching him.

    "It terrifies me, but love isn't all warm kisses and happy, good feelings. There's pain, too. It comes with the job. But there's two different kinds of pain."

    It was Brad's turn to be confused. I can't blame him. I was confused, too.

    "There's the pain you don't want to feel, like when someone hits you, or betrays you. That kind of pain stays with you forever. You never forget it. But there's another kind of pain that you don't mind, and it doesn't last forever. That's the kind of pain that you want because you love someone. It's the kind of pain that hurts the other person just as much. Maybe not physically, but in here." I tapped my fingertips against my chest. "I know the kind of ‘hurt' you mean, Brad. And, believe me, it would hurt you as much as it would hurt me. But it's the kind of hurt that doesn't last. It goes away and the good feelings come in to take its place. Do you understand?"

    "I'm not sure," Brad answered quietly. "I think so."

    "If it happens. . . when it happens. . . you'll understand better."

    Brad looked at the carpet again and shook his head. "This love thing is really confusing. It doesn't make sense."

    "No, it doesn't Brad. I'm still trying to figure it out myself."

    Brad looked at me then. "Maybe some things are meant not to be figured out." And then he settled into me again and I put my arm around him again. "I like it here," he said. "It makes me feel good when you hold me like this."

    I've spent my life holding people, just as I was holding Brad. No-one had ever held me like that. It suddenly dawned on me that I had no idea how it felt.

    * * * * *

    Brad walked taller after he got his stitches taken out. He was waiting for me when I got home Tuesday night after work. He was doing his best to cook dinner for me. Poor kid. He didn't know which end of the spatula to hold and my kitchen was a mess, but I didn't care. To this day I can't figure out how he messed up my kitchen so much when all he did was to bake frozen fish and chips in the oven.

    But, it made him feel good, and his smiles were genuine, and he promised me that his stomach didn't hurt much anymore. Mostly, it had been the stitches pulling every time he moved. I've never had stitches, so I don't know what that's about.

    Anyway, the fish and chips weren't still frozen when we ate them, and they didn't kill me, so I guess he did a good enough job after all.

    "The doctor said I shouldn't do any painting for at least another week. Is that okay?"

    "That's fine," I said. "I'm getting used to ‘sell-the-house' beige."

    He laughed. "See?" he said. "I can laugh now without all that ow ow ow." He took another bite of fish. "Mom's going to teach me how to cook."

    "Why?"

    He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I think I should be doing something else around here besides eating all your food and looking pretty." He stopped with his fork half-way to his mouth. "I do look pretty, don't I?"

    I nodded and chewed. "Very pretty indeed, Brad." (Nothing like a little ego-stroking, eh?)

    "Good answer," he said. "Too bad you aren't." (Nothing like a whole lot of ego-deflation!)

    "I beg your pardon!?" I said as I sat back in my chair.

    "You're not pretty. You're handsome. I don't like pretty. I like handsome." He took one more bite. "You're sexy, too."

    "Now I know you're lying."

    Brad stopped eating and focused his attention on me. "No, I'm not, Ted. I've been thinking about what you told me. The outside is nice enough, but I've started looking at the inside, too. When you put them together, you're a very sexy guy."

    "I'm hardly anyone's Prince Charming."

    "You're mine."

    I sat back again, staring at him. "Bradley Nelson Hayes," I said. "What in hell has got into you?"

    "I'm feeling good, Ted. I got my stitches out today and I'm feeling good. I feel good about myself and I feel good about us. For the first time in my life, I'm in love, and I like it."

    And then he looked at me. I don't know what he saw in my face. I don't know what was there, either. He just stared at me and then he said, "What?"

    I blinked. "Well, for the first time in my life, I'm in love, too."

    "You mean with another guy?"

    "No, Brad. I mean ‘in love'. For real. For the first time."

    It was Brad's turn to sit back. He did. A potato wedge was stuck on the end of his fork. He stared into my eyes again. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," he whispered. "You're telling me the truth!"

    "Yes, I am."

    "But you were married. You had other girlfriends."

    "And I loved them. But not like this."

    Brad just shook his head. "I don't understand."

    "Frankly, Brad," I said sincerely, "I don't understand it either. Just trust me."

    * * * * *

    Brad spent the night, of course. And the next night, and the next night as well. We still wore underwear to bed, though. Brad wanted to sleep naked, but he thought it was best, at least until his surgery had healed completely, so he keep everything tucked inside. Besides, his doctor had warned him against ‘any sexual release' until he could get an erection without any pain. He told me I could take mine off, but I thought it best that I didn't.

    Maybe it was a throwback to The Bitch. She didn't like having a naked body in bed with her. At least not mine. Sometimes I think she'd have preferred me to be dressed in full hockey kit (without the skates, of course, but with a helmet and full, flip-down mask so she wouldn't have to kiss me) when we made love. So, I kept my underwear on as well. They weren't tightie- whities anymore, though. Brad and I had been out shopping one evening after I'd been soaked to the skin and he went to buy some new underwear for himself. He told me I should wear the same kind.

    "I'd look a proper git in those," I told him.

    "I think you'd look cute."

    I bought five packages with three pairs in each box. No Fruit of the Looms protecting my family jewels anymore, but I didn't throw them away until I got used to not fishing myself out of the slit to take a leak.

    So, there we were, lying in bed as usual. Brad was lying on his side, teasing the hair on my chest with his fingertip. The lamp on the bedside table was lit.

    "I wish I had more hair like you."

    "You can have it if you want," I told him. "I hate it."

    "Why? I think it looks neat." He twirled some more. "Feels neat, too." He flattened his hand against my chest and began rubbing in big, slow circles. "Yup. Feels really neat."

    He kept it up until I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed his hand in mid-swirl. "Brad, I think you should stop."

    He looked up at me from my shoulder. "Why?" he asked.

    "I. . . um. . . please, just stop."

    His arm started moving lower. I tried to stop it.

    "I'm stronger than you are, Ted," he said seriously. "You can't stop me."

    His hand continued lower until it slid under the sheets. "Brad, you don't have to do this!" I whispered anxiously.

    I tried to stop him. I really tried. But Brad was right. He was stronger than I and he didn't stop until his hand was lying right on my crotch. I already had a hardon. It had started when he was teasing me with one finger. I still had hold of his arm when his fingers closed around me.

    I let out a long, breathy ‘Ahhh' when he did that. I closed my eyes to it and concentrated on the feelings I was experiencing. Brad's voice came to my ear.

    "Please don't ask me to stop, Ted. I need to see if I can do this."

    He was waiting for an answer. I knew I should stop him, but I didn't want him to. It had been so long since anyone had touched me there. I was still trying to decide when Brad said in a hushed voice, "Did you hear me?"

    "Yes," I whispered back. And then I took my hand away from his arm and put it on the bed beside me.

    Brad's hand lifted and moved, settling back on my panting belly, then sliding beneath the waistband of my underwear. His fingers found me again and wrapped around me again. I tensed, pushing my hips up into his hand. I didn't mean to. I just happened all on its own. I think I let out another sigh.

    His hand began to stroke me, and then he pulled his hand away as he rose up on his elbow. He pushed the sheets down first, and then hooked his thumb into my briefs on one side and pushed down. He lifted the underwear up and over my cock and pushed down the other side. Back and forth until the cotton was around my thighs.

    I was afraid to open my eyes. Afraid that I might stop him if I saw what he was doing. I clenched them tighter. Brad's hand wrapped around me once more and began stroking gently and tenderly. His upper body moved lower until I could feel his breath caressing me. I brought my hand to my eyes and held them closed. My jaws clenched and my teeth ground against each other.

    And then I felt a touch. Warm, wet. It was Brad's tongue. It didn't last long. Just an exploration - a taste. I felt it again, longer this time. His tongue began to move lightly over the taut skin of my cockhead. I let a small grunt escape from my throat. The tongue continued to swirl, pressing harder with each moment that passed.

    Something else was there. Lips. I felt Brad's tongue retract into his mouth. The lips parted and began to slide down. Slowly they went, exploring along the way, testing new territory. It seemed to take forever, but then Brad stopped moving. His lips were locked around the rim of my cockhead. He didn't go any further than that. I didn't care. I tensed once more and let out a long, loud moan of pleasure.

    My hand moved from my eyes to the back of Brad's head, gently stroking the hair it found. I kept my eyes closed, but, in my mind, I could see Brad, his head on my stomach, my cock inside him. I could see his head rising and falling with every breath I took. I could see it all.

    His tongue returned and it began to work on me. I remembered watching when Brad had teased himself. I knew what it looked like, and I imagined it looking exactly the same, except that it was my cock he was teasing, and it was my cock that was in his mouth. He sucked the air out of his mouth, his cheeks closing around me, and I could feel myself swelling. Another moan escaped.

    Brad didn't move his head. He just lay there, sucking and teasing. Maybe it was just because it was Brad, or maybe it was because it had been years since my cock had felt anything other than my own hand, but my balls started rolling only minutes later. I knew the tell-tale signs and I warned Brad.

    "I'm going to cum." It was more of a groan, I suppose.

    Brad still didn't move. The electricity sparked faster, and I knew the moment was very near. "Brad, I'm cumming!"

    The first shot went into his mouth. Only then did he pull away, releasing my cockhead and rising onto his elbow again. His hand began stroking, coaxing the rest of my orgasm to happen. The magic I had witnessed as Brad had jerked himself was happening again - with me.

    I continued to spew my semen onto my stomach. I heard grunts and moans filling the bedroom. The grunts were mine. The moans were Brad's. It was one of the most exciting moments in my life, and I lay there enjoying it, burning every stroke and spasm and spurt into my memory so I'd never forget them.

    It was over too soon. Much too soon for my liking, but all good things must come to an end. If nothing else happened between us, Brad had left me with fireworks going off in my mind.

    Brad continued to stroke slowly and gently until my cock was soft. My chest was heaving and my body was still squirming. He released it and moved his hand to my stomach, circling it and rubbing the cream into the skin. I opened my eyes and found Brad's face. He was looking at me. His mouth was open and I could see my semen on his tongue. He closed his lips and swallowed He had kept it there all that time. And then he smiled at me.

    He settled back onto my shoulder, his cum-slick hand now rubbing my chest. I knew I was a sticky, stinky mess, but I didn't care. Brad seemed comfortable with it, so I was, too.

    It took awhile for my breathing to return to normal. Brad was okay with waiting.

    "Brad?"

    "Hmm?"

    "Thank you."

    I could feel Brad nodding his head on my shoulder. "It was right for me, Ted."

    I turned my head and kissed his forehead. It was the only place I could reach. "I want it to be right for me, too, Brad," I said as my hand sought his own cock. I found it easily enough. It was rock-solid, trapped against his stomach. I wrapped my fingers around it and sighed when I did so. It felt better than I had ever imagined it would. Brad sighed, too. I began to stroke.

    I felt his body jerk. "Stop!"

    I pulled my hand away.

    "Sorry, Ted," Brad said as he looked at me. "It hurts when you stroke it. You can hold it if you want, but don't stroke it. I can't cum yet."

    "I don't want to hurt you, Brad," I said, deeply concerned.

    "It doesn't hurt if you just hold it. That's if you want to."

    My hand moved back into place. Brad settled against me again, twisting his body slightly so I could hold him more easily. Brad didn't cum that night, but I swore to myself that his first orgasm, when he was able to have it, would be by my hand. No. Not my hand. Something better. And suddenly I felt like a five-year-old boy waiting for Christmas Day so I could see what was in the big, red and green box with the yellow ribbons wrapped around it.

    I wasn't holding him anymore when I woke up, but the light was still on.

    * * * * *

    Brad had already decided that he wouldn't stay overnight while Lindsay was in the house, but he went with me when I drove to pick her up. He waited in the car, of course. I felt good. I bounced as I walked and I found myself whistling in the elevator as I rode it up to the eighth floor. I even skipped twice as I walked down the hall toward The Bitch's door.

    The Bitch could do what she wanted tonight. I was in too good a mood for her to spoil it. "Give me your best shot," I said to myself.

    I knocked on the door. I could hear Lindsay's footsteps running to the door. I squatted down to greet her. She pulled it open.

    She was crying, and she jumped into my arms. "Lindsay, Sweetheart," I said, trying to comfort her. "What's wrong?" Her cheek was plastered against my chest and she held onto me for dear life. I stood up and clutched her to me for my own dear life.

    "Please don't bring me back here, Daddy," she begged. Probably another little tiff with The Bitch. I took her right arm in my left.

    "Ow! Daddy! Don't!"

    I let go immediately. "Lindsay!? What's wrong!? What happened" The Bitch showed up in the doorway, holding Lindsay's overnight bag in her hand.

    I gently grasped Lindsay's arm again, closer to her elbow, and held it up so I could see.

    I saw.

    My eyes turned to The Bitch. My eyes burned right through her. I was not polite this time. I was furious and I was ready to kill her. I screamed. "What in hell did you do to my daughter!!??"

    To Be Continued

  12. #112
    Porn Star pkacrotjs's Avatar
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    Re: Watching Brad

    wowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwo wOwowOwowO
    wowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwo wOwowOwowO
    wowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwowOwo wOwowOwowO

    k, i'm dumbstruck, can you tell? I understand your reasons, but it's almost painful waiting for the next installment. Again, please accept my (our!) thanks for sharing.

  13. #113
    Gay and Deaf! DeafFoxDemon's Avatar
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    Re: Watching Brad

    i love it!! what did the bitch do?

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    JUB Addict Craiger's Avatar
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Oh my lord, Neil, as I have said before, this story really is about life. The distinctions between each type of love you portray are of such clarity they draw me in as if I were truly a part of the story.

    As Warren has said, love should know no gender, nor should it lack having the many facets you have shown. Your timing of bring in the sexuality of their relationship has been perfect. It is like gayemtinpa said, "It is what any couple or person could hope for, true love!!!!!!"

    Craiger

    By the way, you just made me a SEX GOD. Thanks!

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    Sex God mexamor's Avatar
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    Re: Watching Brad

    This is just great. I agree with all that has been previously stated.

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    Re: Watching Brad

    I hardly ever post, but I can't help but thank you for this beautiful story. I've got this thread bookmarked, and I'm constantly checking it to see if you've updated.

    You have a beautiful gift with story-telling. Thanks for letting me read...

  17. #117
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    Re: Watching Brad

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XVI

    The Bitch just stood there looking at me. I was dumbfounded. I let go of Lindsay's arm and wrapped my arm protectively around her, holding her as close as I dared. "What did you do!!??" I screamed again.

    "The little brat got into my make-up."

    I exploded. I did something I had sworn I would never do in front of Lindsay. "You. . . fuckin'. . . bitch!!!" I could hear doors opening down the hall, but I didn't give a shit. "If you ever touch my daughter again, I'll. . .!!!"

    Somehow I managed to stop myself.

    The Bitch tilted her head, smirked, and put her hand on her hip. "You'll ‘what'?"

    I calmed my voice down, but it was as threatening as I could make it. "You know damned well what I'll do!" I bent down, grabbed the overnight case, and yanked it out of The Bitch's hand.

    "Hey! You almost broke my nail!"

    "You're just lucky that's the only thing I almost broke!!"

    I turned and ran down the hall toward the elevators. People disappeared inside their doors, closing them behind them. I reached the elevator and pressed the button with my elbow.

    "Come on! Come on!" I said, waiting. I was panting and my heart was pounding in my chest. "Come On!" I screamed again. I didn't look back, but I knew The Bitch was standing in the hallway looking at me. Probably with that stupid-assed grin on her face, too.

    The doors opened finally. I jumped inside. Lindsay was still holding me, still crying. I set down the case and hit the ‘Lobby' button. I counted down the numbers as I grabbed up the case again. They were going too damned slow. I took several deep breaths, preparing myself for the next sprint. Finally, the doors opened and I was gone.

    Brad must have seen me, and he must have seen the panic in my face. He was out of the car before I reached the lobby doors. I threw the case to him. He caught it. "Ted?"

    My hand searched for my car keys as Brad tossed the bag into the back seat of the car.

    "Where in hell are my Goddamned keys!?"

    "They're in the car," Brad said. "Ted, what's wrong?"

    "I don't know yet. Can you drive?"

    "Yes."

    "Get us to the hospital."

    "Oh, God," Brad said and sprinted around the car to the other side.

    I knew I was breaking the law by holding Lindsay in my lap, but fuck it. I wasn't letting go of my baby.

    Brad got behind the wheel, his shaking hands reaching for the key.

    "Easy, Brad. Take a deep breath. Don't kill us before we get there."

    Brad took a deep breath, turned the key, and drove off into the traffic. I was talking to the Emergency Room receptionist when Brad came in after parking the car and locking the doors. When I finished with the nurse, I went to find a seat. Lindsay still hadn't said a word, and she still hadn't let go of me. She was still sobbing.

    Brad took a seat beside me and held out the keys.

    "You keep ‘em. Take the car home. I'll catch a cab later when we're finished here."

    Brad just looked at me. "You're nuts if you think I'm going anywhere." He shoved the keys into the pocket of my jeans. He brushed Lindsay's hair with his hand, then said, "I'll be right back." He stood and walked to the pay telephones.

    My attention turned to Lindsay. "Sweetheart?" I whispered. "Are you okay?" She nodded her head, but she didn't speak. I hugged her and kissed her hair. "Everything will be okay, Sweetheart. I promise."

    I felt her voice more than I heard it. "Daddy?"

    "Yes, Sweetheart?"

    "I love you, Daddy."

    "I love you, too, Lindsay."

    Brad came back. "How is she?" he asked softly as he sat in the chair.

    "Scared, mostly."

    "What happened?"

    I grabbed Brad's arm, just below the wrist, and squeezed hard.

    "Oh, God," he said.

    "I want this documented."

    We weren't classified as a real emergency, so we had to wait. John and Bernice showed up. Bernice rushed forward and Brad stood up so his Mother could sit down. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, rubbing Lindsay's back and shoulders.

    "Hi, Grandma," Lindsay said weakly.

    "What happened?" Bernice asked. I indicated her right arm with a glance. Bernice stood and looked over Lindsay, dropping back into her seat with a bit of an astonished thump. I could see the question in her eyes. She didn't have to ask. I just nodded.

    "Ted," she said, putting her hand on my arm. "You can't let her go back there."

    "I know." I hugged Lindsay just a little bit tighter.

    It was another fifteen minutes before the nurse finally motioned to me. I stood up and Bernice said, "We'll wait here for you."

    I nodded and followed the nurse to the examination room. The nurse looked young. "I'm Dr. van Horne," she said. "Could you put her here, please?" she asked, indicating the long, narrow gurney.

    I set Lindsay onto the bed. She was reluctant even then to let me go. "Don't go, Daddy," she begged, starting to cry all over again.

    I glanced at the doctor. She nodded. "I'm staying right here, Sweetheart. I'll be right beside you. The doctor has to look at your arm now, okay?"

    Lindsay stopped crying. "Okay, Daddy."

    I stepped back to let the doctor work, but stayed close enough to Lindsay so she would know I wasn't going to leave her.

    The doctor was efficient and more careful than some doctors I've seen. She examined Lindsay's arm visually, then with her fingers. When she pressed her thumb directly onto the bruise, Lindsay winced and jerked her arm. "Ow!"

    "I don't think it's broken, but we'll get X-rays to be sure. Lindsay? Can you tell me what happened?"

    Lindsay looked up at me. "Please tell me, Sweetheart. We have to know." When she hesitated, I said, "You won't get into trouble. I promise."

    "I was just looking, Daddy. I wasn't touching it."

    "The make-up case?"

    She nodded.

    "What happened?"

    "Mommy saw me."

    "Ex-wife," I said to the doctor.

    "She grabbed my arm and jerked me. I fell down and she pulled me up. That's when my arm hurt. Then she took me to the livingroom and she spanked me."

    I caught the doctor's gaze and nodded. I looked back at Lindsay. "We have to look, okay, Sweetheart? I'll stay right here with you. I promise."

    "Okay, Daddy."

    I picked her up gingerly and stood her on the bed. I held her by my left arm as I lifted her skirt with my right hand. The doctor gently pulled down her panties. I almost broke a tooth, I was clenching them so tightly.

    I had to hand it to The Bitch. She knew where to spank Lindsay so she could still make her sit in the corner. The little cheeks of her bum were still pink, but it was up, closer to back, where most of the real spanking had been done.

    The doctor moved in closer, then raised a single index finger and tenderly touched two spots on Lindsay's behind. "What are these?" she asked. I leaned in for a closer look. The skins was still scarlet pink, and bruises were beginning to form, but the doctor was still pointing at a small, rectangular mark which left a definite welt and a few tiny scratches.

    I leaned back and let go of Lindsay's skirt. The nurse took over for me. I placed my hands gently on Lindsay's arms. My voice was as calm as I could make it. "Sweetheart, what did Mommy use to spank you?"

    Lindsay looked like she was about to cry again. "Her hand," she said weakly, and she looked away from me.

    I put my fingers to her chin and turned her face to me. "Look at me, Sweetheart." Her eyes found mine. I moved my hand to her cheek. "Mommy used something else. What was it?"

    Lindsay hesitated. "Mommy said she would spank me again if I told."

    "Mommy will never spank you again, Sweetheart. Please, tell me what Mommy used."

    She hung her head and said into her chest. "The TV remote."

    "Of course," I thought. "The little rectangular clip that holds the battery cover in place."

    The doctor stood up as I pulled Lindsay against me in a loving, protective embrace. She pointed to herself with one finger and extended the thumb and little finger of her other hand, putting it close to her face as if she were talking on a telephone. Her lips said, "Police."

    "No," I said. "I'll call."

    As I gently helped Lindsay sit down again, the doctor added, "I think I should do a complete examination."

    "Do it," I told her. "Don't miss anything, Doctor. And document it, please."

    "I'll be very thorough," she assured me.

    "Sweetheart?" I said as I bent down to talk to Lindsay. "I have to make a phone call. Grandma will come in to be with you, okay?"

    Her arms grabbed at me. "Don't leave me, Daddy."

    "You won't be alone. I promise, okay? I'll be right at the door so you can see me."

    She looked at the door as the nurse returned. "Okay."

    I gave her a kiss, then went to the door. I could see my three friends sitting in the waiting area. I was about to call out when Brad saw me. I pointed at his Mother. Brad touched her arm and pointed at me. I motioned her forward and she came as quickly as she could.

    "Is Lindsay okay?" she asked quietly.

    "Yes, but I have to call the police," I whispered.

    Her hand grabbed my arm. "Oh, Ted!"

    "She was spanked badly and they need X-rays of her arm. The doctor wants to do a complete examination. Could you stay with her while I call them?"

    "Of course."

    "She thinks she did something wrong, Bernice. She's scared and she thinks she's in trouble for it and she thinks she'll be spanked again and that I'll hate her because of it. Bernice, she looked at my ex-wife's make-up case."

    From the look in Bernice's face, I knew The Bitch was in trouble if she ever ran into this woman on the street. "I'll take good care of her," she said. "But when we're done here, I want you to tell me where to find The Bitch so I can rip her arms off."

    I smiled in spite of the circumstances. She released my arm and headed into the room. I set out down the hall toward the bank of telephones. Brad and John rose from their seats to meet me.

    "I have to call the police," I said.

    "That bitch!" Brad shouted.

    John put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Nicely put, Son, but keep it down."

    I picked up a phone and punched 9-1-1 on the dial.

    * * * * *

    "There are other small, fading abrasions, but I found another fresh mark on her back," Dr. van Horne said when I returned to the room. She won't tell me what happened. Bernice quietly left the room. "We have photos of everything."

    "I've seen them before. Lindsay told me it was just her bumping into things. I thought it was just part of growing up." I turned to Lindsay. "Tell me, Sweetheart. Did Mommy make the mark on your back?"

    Lindsay hung her head as if she were ashamed. She shook it slowly back and forth. "Miss Graig threw her shoe at me because I was playing too loud when she was watching TV."

    "Did Mommy know she threw it?"

    Lindsay nodded.

    "Did she take you to the doctor?"

    Lindsay shook her head ‘no'.

    "Did she phone the police?"

    Again, ‘no'.

    "Did Mommy fire Miss Craig?"

    One final time, she shook her head. She looked up at me. "I don't want to go back, Daddy."

    I hugged her. "You won't, Sweetheart. I promise. Now, tell me. Did Mommy ever hit you like this before?"

    Lindsay nodded her head. She looked so sad and scared that it ripped into my chest like a bayonet. She started to cry. "She said you wouldn't love me anymore if I told you. She said you wouldn't love me because I was bad."

    "Oh, God, Sweetheart." I picked her up and held her, and I started crying, too.

    "I'll be a witness to everything, Mr. de Villiers," Dr. van Horne said, "if you need one."

    "I will, too," said the nurse.

    * * * * *

    Lindsay wasn't seriously hurt, thank goodness. Well, not really seriously. She had a cracked bone in her arm. As the doctor explained, it probably cracked when Lindsay fell while The Bitch was holding her wrist. The bones twisted and the outside bone cracked laterally. She recommended a small cast, just to protect it in case she fell on it or bumped it. It might break entirely if she did. I told the doctor to do what was necessary.

    The police arrived and waited until the doctor was finished. They spoke with the doctor first, then to both Lindsay and me. When they were finished, one officer said, "I think you have grounds to lay assault charges on both your ex-wife and Miss. . ." he checked his notepad, ". . . Craig, Mr. de Villiers. Would you like to do that?"

    "Both of them," I said. "No-one throws a shoe at my daughter and gets away with it."

    The officer nodded. "Do you know where we can find them?"

    "Not the sitter, but I think I can find my ex, Connie." Lindsay was still holding my hand. Her arm was now wrapped in a thin but solid cast from elbow to wrist. She still had full use of her hand. I turned to her. "Sweetheart, do you know Miss Craig's first name?"

    Lindsay shook her head ‘no'.

    "Don't worry," the officer said. "We'll find out."

    "I can tell you that in a minute if I'm lucky. Follow me," I said to the officer. Lindsay came with me as I walked to the phones. I dug through the change in my pants. "Brad? Do you have a quarter?"

    Brad jumped up and came forward, digging in his pocket and retrieving a twenty-five cent piece. He gave it to me, then stood nearby, waiting.

    I picked up the receiver, dropped the coin into the slot, and dialed all with the same hand. Lindsay wouldn't let me use the other one. She wouldn't let go of it. I waited, hoping. It was answered after only two rings.

    * Jacob McConnell. *

    "Hi, Jacob. It's Ted. Are you working tonight?"

    * Yes. She's in a restaurant right now having dinner. Pheasant with baked potato. *

    "Good. Look, I'm at the hospital. I have the police here. . ." Jacob cut me off.

    * The child!? *

    "Yes. I'm going to put an officer on the line. We need to know the first name of a sitter named ‘Craig'. Answer all the officer's questions and wait for them to get there. If Connie leaves first, call the police and tell them where they go. When you meet the police, point her out, and then you can go home. I think your work is finished."

    * Until that child is yours and out of danger, Ted, I'm on duty. *

    "Thanks, Jacob. There's a big bonus in this for you."

    * It's reward enough to see this woman get what she deserves. How's Lindsay? *

    "A few bruises, and she has a cracked bone in her arm."

    * Pardon my forwardness, Mr. de Villiers, but I hope that woman burns in Hell. *

    I smiled a real smile. Probably the first one in hours. "So do I, Jacob. Here's the officer."

    I handed him the phone. I walked to the other officer, Lindsay trailing right beside me. "Can I take my daughter home now?"

    The officer smiled politely. "Of course. You'll have to stop by the station if you wish to press charges."

    "Now?"

    The officer shook his head. "Any time this weekend is fine."

    "I'll be there first thing in the morning."

    * * * * *

    Lindsay fell asleep in my lap as Brad drove us home. I was breaking the law again, but at this point, I just didn't care. John and Bernice followed in their car.

    "Would you like us to stay with you?" Bernice asked when we arrived home.

    "No," I said. "We'll be fine."

    "I'll stay with them," Brad said. He kissed his Mom and Dad goodnight and followed me inside.

    "Would you like me to make anything for you?" he asked.

    "No," I answered. "I'm just going to get Lindsay to bed and I'll join you." I took her to her bedroom and began undressing her. She didn't wake up. She didn't even stir. When I had her dressed in her nightgown, I tucked her into the blankets and lay down beside her, just looking at her face. I was still furious at The Bitch, but I wasn't thinking about her. I was too busy feeling Lindsay's pain.

    I kissed her cheek, then lay back, watching her sleep. I stroked her cheek with the backs of my fingers and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. I kissed her again just because I wanted to.

    "No-one will ever hurt you again, Sweetheart. I promise you with all my heart." I gave her one more kiss and said, "I love you, Lindsay." And then I put my head down beside hers on the pillow to look at her some more.

    I don't remember anything else until morning.

    To Be Continued

  18. #118
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    Re: Watching Brad

    thankyou!

    you rewarded me once more!

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil,
    What is left to be said about this story and your writing ability. I, as a 78 yo gay man, would like to just add my thanks. It is much better reading than BBM in my opinion. Thanks again and I hope your health improves soon.
    George (consult28)8)

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by consult28
    Thanks again and I hope your health improves soon.
    George (consult28)
    Thanks, George, but I've been like this for almost 20 years now. It's not something that's ever going to get better.

    And thanks to the others for your wonderful comments. They're very encouraging and, I might add, extremely rewarding.

    Thank you.
    Neil

  21. #121

    Re: Watching Brad

    It's so hard to read this thing as a whole on the net.

    It should be a book!!!

    Brilliant.... and pretty hot too!

  22. #122
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    Re: Watching Brad

    biKCboy was right. He told me this was an awesome story and coming from a writer I respect, I had to read it. I read the first 8 chapters last night and up to the present today.
    You have a captivating story here; can't wait for the next chapter.
    On a scale of one to five this is a six.

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil, this is a wonderfully tender piece of writing.
    Please don't let Lindsay ever have to go back to the Bitch.
    The scenes between Ted & Brad as they explore the sexuality between them are beautiful
    Thank you
    Harry

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by biKCboy
    How about have The Bitch go to a bar, neet some loser, then he and she drive off a cliff drunk. I hate this women, and she doesn't even really exist. Great writing to spark such emotion. Keep up the good work.
    I wish I knew how to write an evil laugh without having to write, "This is an evil laugh. Hee Hee Hee."

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by biKCboy
    its "moowah ha ha ha ha", followed by this
    I thought of that. Reminds me too much of Snidely Whiplash.

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    Re: Watching Brad

    where's that bitch at? I'll go kick her ass!!!
    oh yeah, it's just a story. thanks for a story that stirs emotion. thats about the best compliment I know how to give you Neil. Pleeeeaase keep it up. Please, please please.

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    Re: Watching Brad

    *waits patiently*

    *gets impatient*

    I can't cope without knowing what happens next!

  28. #128

    Re: Watching Brad

    Well this sure has turned into an edge of the seat tear jerker. Great writing. It has depth and intrigue as well a love. It also shows just how cruel people can really be. You sadly see it in the news every day. I've got to hand to you on this story. It is quite a piece of work. Thanks so very much for sharing this story.

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    Re: Watching Brad

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XVII

    I felt lips pressing against mine. I recognized them immediately. They were Lindsay's. The lips went away and then a small thumb pushed up my right eye lid.

    "Are you in there, Daddy?"

    "Yes, I am, Lindsay." I opened my other eye and smiled. Lindsay sat back. "How are you feeling, Sweetheart?"

    "I'm okay," she said. "I have to go pee."

    "You're a big girl," I said. "You know where the bathroom is."

    She nodded her head. "I just wanted to tell you."

    "I'm glad you did," I said as I leaned up to give her an awake kiss. "Now, go." She hopped off the bed and trotted across the hall to the bathroom. That's when I noticed I was still lying on her bed and a blanket was tossed over me. "Brad," I thought.

    I could smell coffee and I could hear kitchen noises down the hall. I pushed off the blanket and rolled out of bed, making my way down the hall. Brad and Bernice were in the kitchen making breakfast.

    "Good morning," I said.

    Brad turned, set down the fork he was using to scramble the eggs, and rushed into my arms. Bernice took over for him. Brad's hug was strong and firm, and it felt good. When he finally let me go, he gave me a kiss and asked, "I called Mom over to help me. Are you okay?"

    "I'm fine. And Lindsay's fine, too. I'll warn you, though. She'll probably play up that new cast. Hi, Bernice."

    "Good morning, Ted. Bradley? Could you butter this toast, please?"

    I sat down at the kitchenette table. "I really need a cigarette," I said.

    "No, you don't," Brad said. "Here. Drink this instead." He handed me a mug of coffee as Lindsay arrived.

    "Hi, Grandma!" Lindsay shouted, running toward Bernice.

    "Good morning, darling," Bernice said cheerfully, giving Lindsay a gentle hug. "Would you like some orange juice or apple juice?"

    "Um. . . orange, please." She climbed into the chair beside me.

    "Daddy, is Mommy going to jail for hurting me?"

    "I don't know, Sweetheart," I said honestly.

    "I'm scared to live there, Daddy," she said. "Mommy scares me sometimes."

    Bernice came to the rescue. "Lindsay, dear, would you like to help Grandma make up a plate for your Father?"

    "I can't," Lindsay said, holding up her cast. "I've got a broke arm."

    "I don't think it's ‘broke' enough that you can't carry a plate of toast," Bernice said with a smile. "Besides, I need you to show me where the jam is."

    "I like that fruit stuff," Lindsay said.

    Bernice looked at me in question. "Marmalade," I said.

    "Yeah," Lindsay shouted. "Marla Maid!" She dropped down out of her chair and set out for the refrigerator.

    Brad sat opposite me, his own mug of coffee in his hand. His hand reached across to come to rest on mine. I turned it over and he held my hand in his strong grasp. "You don't look so good, Ted."

    I looked at Lindsay. She was giggling and helping Bernice. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I broke a promise to my baby, Brad. I blew up at the bitch and called her names and threatened her, and Lindsay was in my arms the whole time and heard it all. I swore I'd never do that in front of her."

    Brad squeezed my hand harder. "You were protecting her, Ted. I would have been ashamed of you if you had done anything less."

    I just stared into Brad's eyes, and he stared into mine. I wanted to kiss him so bad, and it looked like he wanted to kiss me. "Gee-sus, Murphy, Ted," I thought to myself. "You're living in a friggin' soap opera!"

    I heard little girl giggles to my right and looked at Lindsay. Brad looked, too, then pulled his hand quickly away from mine.

    Lindsay giggled again as she placed the breakfast plate on the table and pushed it toward me. "Daddy lets me hold his hand, Brad," she said in her little girl innocence. "You can, too, if you want. He has another one if I want to hold it." She climbed into her chair as Bernice set a plate in front of both her and myself. She went to get another for her son.

    When she returned, I looked at her. "Could you watch her while I go to the. . . um. . ." I mouthed the word, "Police."

    Bernice nodded. "Of course, Ted." She turned to Lindsay. "Lindsay, dear? When you're finished eating and I do clean up the kitchen, would you like to come with me and bake some cookies?"

    Lindsay's face lit up. It made me feel all warm and happy inside to see it. "Can I, Daddy?"

    I smiled and leaned forward to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Sure. As long as you let me have one of them."

    She thought, tapping her lip the way she does when she's thinking. "I might let you have two," she said finally. To Bernice, she said, "Can we make peanut butter cookies, Grandma?"

    "Oh, dear," Bernice said. "I don't think I have enough peanut butter."

    Brad stood up, walked to a cupboard, and grabbed a new jar. He set it on the table before sitting back down to finish his breakfast.

    "Peanut butter cookies it is," Bernice said, then she went back to the stove and began cleaning up.

    * * * * *

    Brad was quiet as I drove to the Police Station, sitting there staring down at the fidgeting fingers in his lap. I knew he was thinking. I was thinking, too.

    "We'll talk to her, Brad," I said. He looked up at me. "If I have anything to do with it, she's home to stay. We'll talk to her and explain about you and me. We'll tell her what she needs to know, and we'll let her be in on the decision. If we're going to be a family sometime in the future, she needs to know, and she needs to know that she's a part of it."

    "I don't know if I can do that, Ted."

    "Do what?"

    He looked back at his fidgeting fingers again. "You know," he said with a shrug of a shoulder, "being part of the family. Sleeping in the same bed with you when Lindsay's sleeping on the other side of the wall."

    "You knew this was bound to happen, Brad," I told him. "You knew I was going to fight to get her back."

    He nodded. "I know. I just didn't expect it all to happen so soon. I thought I'd be prepared by then. I'm not sure can deal with it now."

    "Neither am I," I admitted to him, "but I will. I have to."

    He looked at me again. "No, Ted," he said. I didn't like the tone he had in his voice. "You don't have to. I can go away."

    I gripped the steering wheel in my fingers. I could feel my heart skipping beats. "I don't want you to do that, Brad."

    "I don't, either, Ted," he said sadly. "I just don't think it's the best thing for Lindsay. She needs you more than I do. I thought it would be okay, but now that it's right here, I don't think it can be anymore."

    I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to grab hold of Brad and hold him so he couldn't go away. I wanted to do so many things at that moment, but I couldn't do a single thing.

    "Lindsay deserves a real family, Ted. She deserves a father and a mother. Not a father and some guy Daddy sleeps with."

    I sucked in a huge breath and held it for a long time before I let it out. "Can we talk about this later?"

    Brad's voice dropped to a whisper again. "Nothing else to talk about. It's not going to work for us. I don't see how it could."

    Brad wouldn't say anything else. He sat there, thinking. I pulled into the City Police parking lot and parked. I unbuckled and opened my door. Brad didn't move. "Aren't you coming in?"

    He looked at me. "No," he said. "I'll wait here. I want to think some more, okay?"

    I looked into his enchanting, green eyes. I gave him my best smile. "We'll talk about this more."

    It took me quite awhile to fill out the reports and charges. A lot longer than I expected. When I went back out to my car, Brad was gone.

    I waited for half an hour, and then I started walking around, checking the nearby stores and cafés. Brad wasn't in any of them. I don't know why I did it, but I walked into a store, bought a pack of cigarettes, and stepped outside. A young man was leaning up against the wall, sipping on a can of pop. He had a cloth band around his head, holding back his longish hair. He didn't have a shirt on, but he wore a pair of those long, baggy shorts - boardshorts, I think they're called. I don't like them. His shirt was stuffed in the waistband of his shorts. He wore rollerblades as well, one leg bent at the knee, the skate resting against the wall.

    I suddenly wondered why Brad didn't wear those kinds of shorts. They'd probably hide his crotch quite adequately. Then I wondered why I would even want him to wear them. I like his other shorts much better.

    I ripped off the plastic wrapping, tossed it into a nearby trash bin on the street, and pulled out a smoke. I stopped my hand before it reached my mouth. I looked at the cigarette instead, then put it back in the package. I turned to the young man. "How old are you?"

    He seemed to be surprised and stood up on both skates. "Um. . . twenty-one."

    "You smoke?" He nodded. I held the package out to him. "Want these? I just quit again."

    He looked around, unsure, then reached out a hand and took them. "Thanks," he said. He had a nice, kind voice.

    I smiled, nodded, and turned around and walked back to my car. I was going to drive straight home, but I drove around instead, up and down streets, watching for Brad. I couldn't find him. I went places I thought he might be, but he wasn't in any of them. When I ran out of places, I went home.

    I crossed the lawns and rang the Hayes' doorbell. Bernice answered. "Is Brad here?" I whispered.

    "No," she whispered back. Her face was full of expected concern. "What happened?"

    "He walked away from the Police Station. He's having trouble dealing with. . ."

    "Daddy!" Lindsay rushed to meet me. I bent down to pick her up as Bernice stepped aside. I got a whole lot of kisses all over my face.

    "We've had such a great time making cookies, Ted," Bernice said with surprising cheerfulness. She wouldn't allow Lindsay to see her concern. "You must come in and have one."

    "He can have two," Lindsay said. Then she looked at me. "As long as the first one doesn't make you puke."

    I grinned at her. "I'm sure it won't, Sweetheart." I gave her lots of kisses all over her own face.

    She pushed back from me, looking over my shoulder. "Where's Brad?"

    I smiled at her. "He had some things to do, Sweetheart. He'll be home later."

    She scrambled down out of my arms and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the kitchen. "Come on, Daddy!" Her arm didn't seem to be causing her any distress. I followed helplessly as Bernice closed the door. She stood there for quite awhile.

    I was sitting there, munching my second cookie when Bernice came in and put her reassuring hand on my shoulder. I knew what the squeeze meant. "Well," she said, "you two have a lot of nerve. Don't you know you can't eat peanut butter cookies without milk to dunk them in?" She went to the fridge and poured us two glasses of milk.

    Lindsay let me have four cookies.

    * * * * *

    We were playing Crazy Eights after dinner when the phone rang. Lindsay jumped up to run and answer it. "Hello?" Then, "Daddy! Grandma wants to talk to you."

    I took the phone from her as she ran back to the table. I watched as she peeked at my cards. I just smiled.

    "Hi, Bernice," I said.

    "Hi, Ted." Her voice was hushed. "Bradley just came home. He didn't say anything to us. He just went to his room and closed the door. Is he concerned about how Lindsay will feel about the two of you?"

    "Yes," I said.

    "Oh, dear," she said. "I was afraid of that."

    "We'll work it out, Bernice."

    "If you ever need me to take care of Lindsay, you just call me."

    "I will, but I've got a sitter for. . . . Oh, shit!"

    "What?" she said anxiously. "What's wrong?"

    "Nothing. I've got to call Terry and see if she can work each week instead of every other week."

    "Well, if she can't, let me know. I can watch Lindsay when Terry can't."

    "Thanks, Bernice. I appreciate it."

    She was quiet for a long moment. "Ted?"

    I knew what she was going to say just by the sound of her voice. "I know, Bernice. Thanks. Bye."

    "Bye."

    We hung up. "Sweetheart?" I called. "I have to phone Terry. I'll be with you in a minute."

    "Okay, Daddy! Can I have some potato chips?"

    "Sure."

    I found the phone number, picked up the receiver, and dialed.

    * * * * *

    Terry jumped at the chance to work each week. She had been looking for another job which would coincide with the one she had with me. This would be so much easier for her. I briefly explained the situation and told her all about the cast. "Don't let Lindsay use it to sweet-talk you out of doing her chores."

    That evening, I gave Lindsay her first bath since the cast was put on. She thought it was ‘really neat' when I wrapped her arm in a large, plastic freezer bag. I put her to bed and sat with her until she fell asleep, which didn't take long. I gave her a final goodnight kiss, went to the kitchen, grabbed a few bottles of beer, and went outside and found my place on the wall. It was dark, but the moon cast a nice glow over the backyard. Brad's light wasn't on. I looked.

    My foot hit the butt bucket and I picked it up. I walked over to the house and dropped it into the garbage can. I wouldn't be needing it anymore. On second thought. . . . I picked up the tin, dumped it out, and carried it back to the wall. I twisted the top off a Blue, dropped the lid into the new ‘twist top bucket', put the open end of the beer bottle between my lips, and tilted it. I didn't stop drinking until the bottle was empty.

    I set the bottle on the ground and picked up another bottle and opened it, but I didn't drink it. I just sat there, thinking. I jumped when I felt the hand on my shoulder and turned quickly to look up at the body attached to it. It was John.

    Using me for balance, he stepped over the wall and sat beside me.

    "Got another one of those?" he asked quietly.

    I handed him my bottle. "I haven't touched it yet." He took it. I opened another.

    We just sat there for awhile, neither of us saying anything. And then John began to speak.

    "When Bradley was a little boy, about eight, we got him a dog. Topper. He named it himself. He loved that dog more than anything else in the world. The dog would sleep with him in his bed and he took it everywhere with him. We had to lock it in the bathroom when Bradley left for school in the morning. He fed it himself and he gave it water. He brushed it every day and walked it and an clipped its nails and took care of it. He did everything. His whole life was that dog."

    He fell silent for a long time. I sat and waited for the rest of the story. John simply said, "Cancer."

    I looked into John's face. I'm sure I could see tears in his eyes, even in the moonlight. He blinked, looked down at his beer bottle, then took a sip. "Bradley cried and sulked for days after Topper died. We couldn't do anything for him. He spent days in his room, just lying on his bed, crying and staring up at the ceiling. He got over it, of course, but it took a long time."

    Then he looked at me. I looked at him. "Bradley is too old to cry and sulk anymore, Ted, but we can see it in his face. What he's feeling now is the same as the way he felt when Topper died. He's hurting, Ted. He's hurting bad and he's frightened."

    His hand reached across and settled on my thigh. "If there was a way Bradley could have got Topper back, he would have found it. You, he can get back. But he's the only one who can find the way. The wife and I can't help him. You can't help him either."

    He took his hand away and took a deep breath. He cleared his throat politely. "Do you love my son?"

    "Yes, John. I love him."

    "Bradley loves you, too."

    "I know. He told me."

    John looked at me again. "He'll find the way, Ted. You just have to give him time."

    And then he smiled at me. He held out his beer toward me. "Just remembered. I don't like beer."

    I took it from him and he stood up. I stood up, too. "Goodnight, Ted."

    "Goodnight, John. Thanks." I helped him across the wall and John walked into the night. I sat back down and started to think all over again.

    To Be Continued

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    Re: Watching Brad

    I had a feeling you were going to do something like this to us but I wasn't looking for it this soon. Now you really have to do some writing before we come and storm your house to find out what is going on. As I told you I am 78 yo and really don't have too much time to spend wondering how my favorite characters are going to live out their lives.
    Thanks for everything. You are really a good author.
    George

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    HUGS! ;-)
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Hey, Neil!

    Sorry I've been "quiet" lately ...

    My "Night Schedule" has kicked in! My perceptions are still quite "Topsey/Turvey"! Busy "adjusting myself", so to speak!

    But ... I HAVE been Reading! Just haven't had the time to type, before going up to bed, to sleep during Sunlight!

    Your words have been contributing to some really nice Dreams! Each tap of your fingertips have been leaving an Impression on My Mind!

    Keep smilin'!!
    Chaz
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

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    Re: Watching Brad

    I don't know any of us that would pull away from this story, Neil. I like the new twist as it makes me stop and think about life as well. I am sure that things will improve, but as in real life, there are ups and downs that we haver to face. Thank you for bring that back into my consciousness.

    Craiger

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    Re: Watching Brad

    What a sad chapter...We need some resolution and we need it fast!

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    Re: Watching Brad

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XVIII

    Lindsay and I went to Toronto by ourselves. We hit the Science Centre first, then headed on into Mississauga in the afternoon to meet Warren and Bill for dinner. I could see the anxiety in Warren's face. His surgery was planned to take place less than two weeks. He covered it well, though, and used Lindsay's cast to good use. It took his mind off his own problems.

    I was helping Bill in the kitchen as Warren kept Lindsay busy in the livingroom of their apartment. "It this the first time?" Bill asked.

    "It's the only one I know about," I answered. "Lindsay said there were others. Connie told her I wouldn't love her anymore if she told me about them. She told Lindsay she couldn't ever come to see you guys again, either."

    "That reminds me," Bill said. "Where's Brad?"

    I stumbled over my words. "He. . . um. . . . We. . ."

    Bill just nodded. "Lindsay's in the picture now and he doesn't know how to handle it."

    I nodded back.

    "You have to prepare yourself, Ted," Bill said gently, but bluntly. "He may never come back."

    I couldn't answer. My heart rose into my throat and got stuck there. I couldn't swallow it back down. I knew Bill was right. I felt a hand on my shoulder and then I was being pulled into Bill's arms. They wrapped around me and I fell into him. He held me and he cuddled me and he soothed me, and it felt good. I could feel the heat from his body warming me from the inside. It felt like he was hugging me there, too, and I suddenly understood the feelings Brad had felt. I didn't think any woman could ever make me feel that way, and I decided at that moment that I didn't ever want to give another woman that chance to prove that she could. I didn't want from them what I was getting from Bill.

    * * * * *

    Lindsay was helping Bill clean up after dinner. Bill had found an indelible felt-tipped pen and both he and Warren had signed Lindsay's cast. I had to sign it, too. I wrote a great, big "I love you" on the top and signed a great, big "Daddy" beneath it.

    Warren sat outside with me on the balcony. Mississauga spread out below us with the shimmering waters of Lake Ontario beyond.

    "So, Teddy, you're finally admitting you're gay?" Warren asked.

    "I already have."

    "Are you going to tell Lindsay?"

    "I think I have to."

    "I think you do, too. Would you like some help?"

    I shook my head. "I have to do it by myself, Warren."

    He knew, as always. "You'll know what to say, Teddy," he said. "You'll find the words."

    "I hope so," I said, and I really hoped I would.

    "Brad will come back, Teddy," he said without looking at me. "I know these things. Whatever his mouth may say, his eyes tell me different things."

    We sat there for awhile, saying nothing. Just looking out over the lake and the sailboat making it's leisurely way toward the east. The sun was headed in the opposite direction. The sounds were so different from the quiet of the burbs. There were too many of them. I didn't care for them, really, and I was glad I lived where I lived, especially when it was next door to. . .

    Then Warren said suddenly, "He'll come back, Ted. And if you plan on parking the H1 Hummer in the garage, you either have to make some space, or build a bigger building."

    I looked at him. It took a long time to figure out what he meant, and then visions of dildos of all sizes filled my mind and I started to laugh. Gee-sus, Murphy, did I laugh! Warren laughed right along with me and, when Bill and Lindsay joined us to see what the ruckus was about, they joined in, too, without even knowing why.

    * * * * *

    I had hoped that Brad would be waiting for us when we got home. Wishful thinking. I prepared a bath for Lindsay and sat on the edge of the tub as she bathed.

    "When is Uncle Warren going to get better, Daddy?"

    "Soon, Sweetheart," I told her. I sincerely hoped that she had not seen her Uncle Warren for the last time that afternoon.

    As I was tucking her into bed, I sat beside her. "I have to talk to you, Sweetheart."

    "Okay, Daddy."

    I brushed her hair back with my fingers and kissed her forehead.

    "Is this about Brad?" she asked. Very clever, my child was.

    "Yes, Sweetheart, It is. Do you know what it means to be gay?"

    She shook her head ‘no'.

    "Do you remember when I used to live with you and Mommy?"

    "Yes."

    "Your Mommy and I loved each other. We were best friends and we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. That's why we were married, so we could be together like that."

    "So you could have me, too, right, Daddy?"

    "Oh, yes, Sweetheart," I said. "You are the best thing that I could ever have asked for. We all made a family. You, me, and your Mommy."

    "But you don't love Mommy anymore."

    "No, I don't."

    "You love Brad now, don't you?"

    "Yes, Sweetheart, I do."

    "Is Brad going to be my new Mommy?"

    I smiled at her and chuckled lightly. "No, Sweetheart. It doesn't work that way."

    "But you want him to live with us, don't you? You want us to be a family?"

    "Yes, Lindsay, I would like that."

    She began to tap her lip with her fingertip. "Is that what gay means, Daddy? When two men love each other and want to be a family?"

    "Yes, it is."

    "Like Uncle Warren and Uncle Bill."

    "Yes." I brushed back her hair once more.

    Again, the tapping. "That's what fags is, isn't it, Daddy?"

    "Yes, Sweetheart," I said. "But. . ."

    I've reminded Lindsay hundreds of times that she shouldn't interrupt people when they're talking. This time, I'm glad she did. "It doesn't sound like a very nice word," she said. "I don't like it."

    "It's a very bad word, Sweetheart, and only bad people use it when they want to hurt someone's feelings."

    "Like Mommy did when she called you and Brad. . . that word."

    "Yes."

    "I think I understand," she said, and then she sat up and gave me a big hug. "It's okay if you're gay, Daddy. It's okay if you love Brad. I don't mind. As long as you don't stop loving me, too."

    I hugged her closer and kissed her cheek. "Nothing or nobody will ever be able to stop me from loving you, Lindsay."

    Lindsay pushed away from me, but she still held my arms. "I think I should go to sleep now, Daddy," she said. "I'm tired."

    "So am I, Sweetheart."

    She gave me one more kiss and said, "I love you, Daddy."

    "And I love you a gazillion times more." I gave her another kiss for good measure.

    She lay down again and I tucked her in once more. "Nitey-nite, Daddy."

    "Goodnight, Sweetheart," I said softly. "Would you like me to stay until you go to sleep?"

    "No," she said. "I'm a big girl now. I can go to sleep all by myself."

    I brushed her hair back, kissed her on the forehead, and left her bedroom, turning out the light as I went.

    I didn't go outside that night. I didn't want to see the light that might be coming from Brad's bedroom. I was afraid I might see his shadow, or, worse, see him.

    I went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of beer, and closed the fridge door. I stopped and looked at the bottle, then put it back in the fridge and made an herbal lemon tea for myself instead. I lit a candle in the livingroom, turned out the lights, and sat there drinking my tea.

    So, I had done it. I had told my daughter that I was gay and that I loved Brad. She understood and she was happy for me. Now, I had to find a way to tell Brad.

    I closed my eyes and I saw him in my mind. Not his body - only his face. He smiled at me and I saw his chipped tooth and I could feel the blood flowing into my groin. I tried to push the image from my mind, but it wouldn't budge, and the more I saw it, the harder my cock became. I set down the mug of tea and leaned back into the sofa. My hands unbuttoned my shirt and unbuckled and unzipped my jeans, and then my right hand reached inside my underwear and pulled it out. My left thumb hooked the waistband and pulled my underwear down to my balls. Like a horny teenaged boy, I sat there on my sofa, imagining Brad's face, and I masturbated.

    Brad's face was still in my mind when I came - still looking at me, still smiling. The first spurt of semen hit me right in the face and I let out a huge sigh of ecstasy. I can't remember the last time I squirted my cream into my face, but I'm sure I wasn't shaving every day at the time.

    I didn't clean myself up. I didn't do up my clothes. I simply lay back, enjoying the experience and the after-orgasm relaxation. I don't know how long I sat there, but, by the time I sat back up to get back to my life, the tea was cold. I dumped it into the sink, rinsed the mug, locked the door, and blew out the candle.

    I took a quick shower and went to bed. But I slipped into Lindsay's room one last time to give her just one more kiss before I did.

    * * * * *

    Lindsay was still asleep when Terry arrived in the morning. Her eyes lit up when I told her that Brad may be over to paint my bedroom. I think she was sweet on him - or maybe she just liked the idea of seeing him work in his shorts. I don't know. Whatever the case, he was mine, and I was going to fight for him just as hard as I had fought for Lindsay.

    I asked if Terry could stay for dinner. I wanted to talk to her about working when Lindsay began school. She said she could and I left her with that.

    Al, my lawyer, phoned me at work and told me that The Bitch's case was coming up on Wednesday morning at 10:00 AM. The Crown wanted both Lindsay and myself as witnesses and to expect to be served with a summons.

    "Can't you keep Lindsay out of this? I don't want her on the stand, Al."

    "I doubt if that will happen, Ted," Al said over the phone. "If anything, the Judge will talk privately to her in her chambers."

    "Her?"

    "Yes," he said. "Judge Henderson. She's good, Ted. She's got children of her own and she doesn't take kindly to those people who beat them up."

    He told me that one of The Bitch's rich boyfriends had bailed her out of jail on Saturday morning, not long after the court magistrate had set the amount. At least she had spent one night behind bars. That made me feel better.

    I made arrangements to have the whole day off.

    * * * * *

    Quitting smoking had been easier than I had expected it would be. Mind you, I didn't really smoke that much in the first place. A twenty-five pack of Kings would last me three or four days. Sometimes five.

    If I hadn't been feeling so sorry-assed miserable about myself, I might have been happy about the smoking thing. But this was Monday, and I hadn't seen Brad since Saturday morning. There was a great big hole inside me that even all of Lindsay's hugs and kisses couldn't fill. I realized that I didn't just want Brad. I needed him. My life was empty without him. If this is what it was like to be gay, I hated it.

    Nothing had ever torn me up inside so much. No broken relationships came close. Even my divorce was minuscule in comparison. I needed Bradley Nelson Hayes. I needed all three names. But I couldn't have even one of them if he didn't he didn't want me as well.

    I put on a good front for Lindsay. She held up her arm proudly and showed me where Terry had signed her cast. Terry had already begun dinner for us. Hamburger Helper again. With cheese this time. I made the soggy rice.

    The Bitch phoned while we were eating. Fortunately, I answered it and not Lindsay. She lit right into me, screaming and shouting about things I couldn't even understand. When she paused for a breath, I jumped in. "Look, I can't talk to you here. If you're at home, I'll call you back in a minute."

    "You'd fuckin' better call me back, you fuckin' faggot asshole!!" She slammed the phone down.

    I walked over to Lindsay and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be right back, Sweetheart. I have to make a phone call, okay?"

    "Okay, Daddy."

    I stood up and glanced at Terry. "There's ice cream in the freezer for dessert." Pointing toward Lindsay, I mouthed the words, "Keep her here." Terry nodded.

    I stepped out the back door, closing it securely behind me, and walked to the far end of my yard, dialing The Bitch's number as I went.

    She set into screaming again. When I could speak, I did. "If you don't calm down and talk to me civilly, I'm hanging up and unplugging the phones!"

    There was silence for a long moment, and she spoke again. She was angry, but I could understand her now.

    "What in hell do you think you're doing, Ted de Villiers. Hiring a private detective to spy on me?"

    She had probably heard about it from her lawyer, who had heard it from the Crown Attorney. "You didn't leave me much choice, Connie."

    "What do you expect to get from it?"

    "I expect to get the proof that you're a worthless mother and a dangerous person and you don't have the ability to take care of my daughter."

    "She's my daughter, too."

    "Not when you try to break her arm, she isn't! Lindsay's in a Goddamned cast for Christ's sake!"

    "That was her fault! She had no business getting into my make-up."

    "Listen to yourself, Connie! Your daughter's arm is in a cast and you put it there and you're worried about your fuckin' make-up! Open your fuckin' eyes!"

    Connie was good at changing the subject when things weren't going her way. "Oh, I suppose you want to borrow my make-up for your faggot boyfriend!" she said. "A little eye shadow. Some mascara. Lipstick. Rouge. He'd look the proper Queen. Maybe you want to borrow some of my outfits, too! I bet he'd look awfully pretty in my blue sequined gown."

    "Fuck you, Bitch!"

    "You'll never get her, Ted," she threatened. "As soon as the judge hears how you and Faggy Pants are pounding the sheet, you'll never see her again! I hope he's broken your ass in good, Ted, because you. . . are. . . fucked!"

    "And you can kiss it!"

    "Fuck you, faggot!"

    I tried to be civil and polite. I tried to be nice. I couldn't be any of them anymore. "At least I didn't put my kid in the Goddamned hospital, you fuckin' Bitch!!"

    And I hung up on her.

    God, how I wanted a cigarette!

    * * * * *

    Terry was happy with the working arrangements for when school started. If all went well, Lindsay would be enrolled in the school just down the street. I'd bought the house specifically for it's proximity to the school. I would take her to school in the morning and Terry would meet her for lunch, bring her home, and back again. She'd stay home, doing simple household chores, then pick her up again after school. She would have her mornings free, but she had to be available for school holidays, closures, illness and such. However many hours she worked, she would get paid as if she had worked the entire day.

    She helped clean up after dinner and even stayed to watch Beauty and the Beast with Lindsay and myself. It was a pretty good evening, actually, but I still felt empty.

    Later, I sat on the edge of the tub, giving Lindsay her bath. She still thought it was ‘really neat, Daddy' when I wrapped her cast in a plastic freezer bag.

    "Terry and me went to Grandma's this afternoon, Daddy. She said Brad went to Toronto to take his books back to his school. She signed my cast. See?"

    "Oh, that's good," I said.

    "Why didn't he go with us yesterday?"

    "I don't know, Lindsay. Maybe he had other things to do."

    "He would have had fun at the Science Centre."

    "We'll go again sometime, and Brad can go with us."

    "Grandma had lemon pie." She started to giggle and put her finger to her lips and said, "Shh. I ate two pieces."

    I giggled with her. "I won't tell anyone, Sweetheart."

    I sat with her on the edge of the bed, too, until she fell asleep, and, when she did, I sat there and watched her sleep for a long time. I put my hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating and feeling her chest go up and down with every single breath. I truly enjoyed watching my child sleep. Those were my most enjoyable moments.

    Finally, I kissed her forehead and went to the kitchen where I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. I couldn't have a cigarette, so the beer would have to do. I took my seat on the wall outside. It was actually cool for a change that night, and it felt nice. A gentle breeze blew. I could hear it rustling the leaves on the trees.

    I glanced over my left shoulder. Brad's light was out. I only wanted to see him. He didn't have to be naked or anything. Just to see his face. Just to see him.

    God, I missed him. I could never have imagined that someone could have such an effect on me. I missed Lindsay every time she went away from me, but it wasn't like this. Lindsay left an emptiness inside me, but she filled it up again when she came back. I was afraid the emptiness I felt from Brad's absence would ever be filled up again.

    That was my life. Fucked up and empty. Except for Lindsay, of course. She was the only stability I had going for me. She was always there, and she loved me, no matter what. Not even when I told her that I was gay.

    You know, that still surprises me to this day. I knew from the moment that I told her that I would never be with a woman ever again. I didn't want to be. I can still remember Randy when I think of him, and I can still remember that young man with the boardshorts and roller blades outside the store. There were others I can remember, but they were the only ones you know about. I looked at men differently after I told her. I began to remember things like eye colour, and whether they wore boxers or briefs, or whether they went commando. I started noticing things like that. Like the ‘go-fer' at my office. You know, the guy who ‘goes for this', ‘goes for that'. A ‘go-fer'. I've never even seen him take a leak, but I know he's cut. I know how to tell now. Ask me if the secretary wore a bra and I'm euchred, but ask me if the UPS guy was dressed to the left or the right yesterday and I could tell you.

    Still, though, there wasn't anyone I remembered better than Brad. All I had to do was close my eyes and I could see him any time I wanted. But I didn't want to see him only in my mind. I wanted him right there with me.

    A gust of wind blew past me and I looked up into the sky. No stars. It felt like rain. Well, it could rain all it wanted. It couldn't make me any more miserable than I already was.

    I picked up a beer and twisted the lid off. I bent over and dropped the lid in the bucket. It landed with a metallic clink. I sat back up and another gust of wind blew past me. At least, I though it was a breeze. I could still feel it on my left arm, and it wasn't cool. I looked.

    Brad was sitting beside me.

    To Be Continued

  35. #135
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil,

    Thanks for another awesome chapter! I now wake in the morning, grab some coffee and my laptop and crawl back in bed to see what's happening with Brad & Ted. You're now part of my morning routine and, actually causing the odd smile before I'm even caffeinated (trust me, that's no small feat).

    Can't wait for more, and thanks again!

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    Re: Watching Brad

    You are a master of suspense...just when I thought I couldn't possibly want to find out more, you post a chapter like that...grrrr....

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Neil,
    You are the master of the cliff hanger, damn it!
    Now I have to wait one more day

  38. #138
    HUGS! ;-)
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Waiting, Breathlessly, for what's next ... and next ... and next!!

    I'm turning Blue, here, Neil!!
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  39. #139
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by Tristan_Durst
    Is there any way to Bribe you to post the next chapter?
    Sorry. I don't take bribes. You'll have to wait until tomorrow morning, just like everyone else.

    Thanks for your comments, guys. I'll try and stretch this story out as long as I can. I kind of hate to think about having to bring it to an end.

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    Re: Watching Brad

    Hi Neil, Thanks for saying you'll run this one for a while.
    Really great story with a rather unusual theme ( or two...)
    Young daughters have a way of twisting fathers ( friends, grandmas & all ) around their little fingers, I hope this happens to Ted & Brad !!!
    Peace & Love
    Harry

  41. #141
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    Re: Watching Brad

    i love the story, it is so heart breaking story!! let hope Brad will come to his sense soon!

  42. #142

    Re: Watching Brad

    I can't help but love this story. It is so very well written and descriptive. It's like being there with Ted and feeling his pain

  43. #143
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    Re: Watching Brad

    Quote Originally Posted by sheep
    Neil,
    You are the master of the cliff hanger, damn it!
    Now I have to wait one more day
    Fortunately Neil isn't like the TV Networks that are running the "Season Finale" . Oops! I better not give him ideas.

    Craiger

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    Re: Watching Brad

    (I am 4 chapters ahead of the game. I will post another chapter this evening. Enjoy. - Neil)

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XIX

    It was stupid, I know. I just sat there, staring at him for a long time, and then my hand slowly came up and I poked my finger into his chest to make certain he was real. Like I said, it was stupid.

    But flesh pressed against flesh, and I knew I wasn't dreaming the young man beside me. He was smiling at me, probably at the stupid look on my face. I could smell him as the breeze blew him toward me. He was very real, and he was sitting beside me.

    "I'm sorry, Ted," he said quietly. "I had to think about all this." He paused. "A lot."

    I still hadn't taken my eyes off him, and I still hadn't said a word. It was dark, but his face was very clear to me. I could see it as distinctly as if he were sitting in a spotlight. I knew that face. It's the one I fell in love with.

    "Got another beer?" he asked. I handed him mine. He took a quick drink and he grinned. "Are you going to say anything?"

    "Brad?"

    Brad set his beer on the wall and his arms came up and around me. He pulled me forward and my arms moved around him as well - tentatively at first, and then with greater urgency. He held me. I was holding him, too, but it was Brad who held me. It was my head laying against his chest. It was his arm around my back. It was my cheek feeling the heat from his body. It was my ear listening to the heart beating inside him. It was his other arm stroking my hair, and it was his lips that were kissing it.

    Brad held me, and it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever felt in my life. I could feel his life against my cheek and I could feel the strength in his arms and I could smell the manliness of his body. I stayed there, in my own little Heaven, and it was called Brad.

    I don't know how long we stayed there, but, when we finally pulled apart, I'm sure the moon was in another part of the sky. We looked at each other then, and Brad smiled. I saw the chipped tooth and I prayed that he never got it fixed. I missed it so much when he wasn't there for me to see it, and I looked forward to seeing it again when we were away from each other. I wanted to look at his chipped tooth for the rest of my life.

    His voice was as gentle as an evening breeze. "I saw you last night. What you did." He must have seen my surprise and embarrassment. He had to have seen it. "I heard you talking to The Bitch on the phone. I came outside later - after dark - and sat on the wall. I was hoping to see you. I wanted to see you. I had to know that you were okay. I hoped you might come out there, but you didn't. I saw you on the sofa." He paused. "I watched you, Ted."

    I swallowed hard.

    "Were you thinking of me?"

    I swallowed again. "Yes," I said.

    "You hit your face. Did I make you do that?"

    "You saw that?"

    Brad nodded. "I was standing right at your back door. Your eyes were closed." His smile turned into a grin. "I'm glad I made you hit your face." And then he said to me, "I love you, Ted. I need to be with you."

    I wanted to jump up and down. I wanted to shout out for everyone to hear. I wanted to laugh and dance and sing. I wanted to do cartwheels and somersaults across the lawn. I wanted to tear off my clothes and run naked through the streets. But, most of all, I wanted to kiss Brad.

    So I did.

    It was over much too soon for me, but I knew it had to end at some point. When I was looking into his eyes again, I told him, "I love you, too, Brad. We'll find a way to make this work."

    "I won't move in with you, Ted," Brad said. Then, when he saw the look on my face, he smiled and added, "Not yet, anyway. Not until I'm sure I won't do anything to harm your chances of getting custody of Lindsay. I won't let that happen."

    "You can sleep over sometimes, can't you?"

    "Yes, I can do that," he chuckled lightly.

    "Will you stay tonight?"

    "Yes."

    I kissed him again. "Can you cum yet? I want to make you cum."

    "I think I can. I haven't tried. I was jerking off when I watched you, but I didn't cum. But it doesn't hurt like it did before when you touched me."

    "Why did you stop?"

    He didn't even know the answer himself. He had to look away and think about it. When he looked back, he said, "Because you weren't with me, Ted. It may sound stupid, but I don't want to cum again if you're not with me."

    I had to kiss him again.

    "I want to make you cum, Brad. You'll tell me if it hurts?"

    "You'll be the first to know."

    I stood and took his hands, pulling him to his feet. We abandoned the near-full beer bottles and left them to spend the rest of the night on the stone wall, pointing silently into the night sky.

    We held hands as we walked to the back door and stepped inside. Brad followed me as I turned out lights and locked doors. I led him down the hall and into my bedroom and I closed the door behind us. The light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over us as I stripped Brad. He let me take his clothes off this time, and I did it with all the love I felt for him.

    I pulled off his T-shirt, dropping it to the floor, and then my hands were exploring his chest, running over it and around it, feeling and searching. I wanted to know every millimetre of it. I wanted to know what if felt like. I wanted to know how the skin felt beneath my fingers. I wanted to know how soft the hair was as I touched it. I wanted to know how warm his body was, how soft, how hard. I wanted to know everything. His chest was so solid, yet so soft at the same time. It filled me with the strength his strength and that empty space he had left inside me when he was gone was suddenly filled back up. . . and it was overflowing.

    I dropped to my knees and pulled off his shoes and socks, and then I looked up. His crotch was there, larger than a moment ago with the hardening flesh pushing against the material of his cut- off jeans. I put my hands on his hips and I pushed my face into him. I could feel him beneath me. I could feel his cock as it grew beneath me. I could feel where the shaft ended and where the head began. I could fell his balls against my chin. And I could smell him. It was a different smell. It was Brad's smell, but it was stronger, more powerful, more manly. It was intoxicating in it's aroma and I became lightheaded from it. It was the smell of a man. My man. It was the smell of sex, and I didn't fear it. I embraced it instead. My head began to spin with excitement and I breathed him in deeply.

    My face moved away reluctantly and my hands took its place. I unbuttoned the metal clasp, then grasped the tab of the zipper between my finger and thumb. The denim pushed apart as my hand travelled slowly down, over the curves and mounds and valleys of Brad's manhood. And, when the tab reached the bottom, his manhood forced its way through and into the open. I wasn't afraid of it.

    I grasped the ragged hems of his shorts and pulled down. The denim slid easily over his ass and down his legs, finally dropping to the floor on its own when it was far enough down his legs. Brad stepped out of them and pushed them aside with his foot..

    I looked at Brad then, close-up. The scent from his crotch reached my nostrils even across the space that separated us. His cock was growing, pushing against the soft, cotton material of his briefs, stretching it. His cock was still pointed down between his balls, but it was growing and forcing the material into a sideways rainbow, inflating his briefs as one would inflate a party balloon. It grew larger even as I watched. I wanted to press my face into it again, but I knew the discomfort Brad must be feeling. He didn't complain. He only whimpered so quietly that I could barely hear him. I could see his body quivering. Shivering. Tiny goose bumps of excitement covered his thighs. I carefully lowered the underwear as I had done with his shorts.

    Brad's cock sprang forth when the head was released from the waistband, bouncing against my cheek with an audible slapping of skin upon skin. I leaned back slightly and it aimed itself at me, growing in heartbeats. As he stepped out of his underwear, my hand reached to wrap itself around him. I gave it a hesitant, gentle stroke and was rewarded with a moan of pleasure. I gave it a stronger stroke and a drop of clear fluid appeared at the tip.

    There was no thinking about it. I simply did it. I leaned forward, my tongue extended past my lips, and I took that droplet of fluid into me. It was nectar. It was ambrosia. And I wanted more. My tongue touched him again, and then my lips. For the first time in my life, I was doing something I would never have imagined I would ever do. I was kissing a man's cock. I was kissing the cock of the man I loved. My other hand moved beneath his balls, cradling them gently and lovingly. They felt heavy and full, and my hand felt like it was full as well. They were so soft, so tender, yet there was so much man in them. I grasped them tenderly in my fingers and held them. They came alive in my hand and danced there.

    I pushed my head forward, prying my jaws apart and stretching my lips, and I could taste Brad. I could taste the powerful manliness and sexiness of that part of him which very few people ever saw. I pushed forward until my lips met the ridge of his cockhead. My jaws screamed at me, but I pushed forward despite their protests, and then the head was inside me.

    Brad grasped my shoulders, his fingers digging into them, and a long groan of pleasure escaped his lips. I could feel the head filling me, and then it expanded. I could feel it pressing against my teeth and I carefully pulled away from him again, releasing the organ into the light of the bedroom once again.

    I knew I wouldn't be able to give him a blowjob. Not yet. Not until I got used to it, but I knew the truth now. I knew that this was what I wanted to do. This was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. And I wanted to do it with Brad.

    I gave his cock one final kiss, lapping up one more drop of pre-cum before I rose to my feet. I gave him an apologetic smile and he smiled his understanding. There were tears of appreciation in his eyes. There were tears of joy in mine.

    I pushed him gently to the bed, then onto his back against the pillows. He settled into place as I swiftly pulled off my clothes. I lay down beside Brad and pressed my lips against his as my hand sought out the shaft of flesh. It was still as solid and throbbing as ever. My strokes began gently, tenderly, then stronger and faster. Brad kissed me harder and I knew that he was okay. If there was pain, he wasn't going to let me know about it. He wanted me to continue.

    And then I stopped the kiss. As much as I enjoyed doing it, I wanted to watch Brad. I wanted to see what I was doing for him. I wanted to see him he enjoy what I was doing for him.

    I propped myself on my left elbow. Brad continued to moan, and I had given his cock only a few strokes when he groaned, "Faster." I sped up the rate of my stroking and I could feel his cock responding. It swelled within my hand. My hand travelled up and down the shaft, from its base to just below the ridge.

    I gathered saliva in my mouth and spit it on his cockhead. My hand rubbed it in gently and Brad groaned more, his cockhead swelling to a taut, smooth helmet. I spit again and began stroking the head and upper shaft.

    "Oh, God, Ted!" Brad moaned as quietly as he could. "Faster!" A few strokes followed, and Brad moaned again. "I'm cumming, Ted! Faster! Harder!"

    I did my best to make Brad cum - to give him as much pleasure as I could. And then it happened. His cock swelled enormously, recoiled like a cartoon canon, and the first stream of semen was catapulted out of him with a power I could only imagine. I could hear it splashing against the wall behind us. No cum touched his body except that which splattered on him from above his head. Another stream exploded out, and then another, and then a forth. All of them slammed into the wall. None of them touched Brad's body before they touched the wall. The smell of semen was like a scented candle, filling the room around us, and it was the most exciting scent I have ever enjoyed.

    The next spurt landed on Brad, from mid-chest to hair. The rest landed on the headboard. Four more spurts followed. I counted each and every one. They landed on Brad's body.

    Brad was doing his best to keep from screaming out. His beautiful face was contorted into a look of pure ecstasy. His eyes were clenched shut. His mouth was open, his lips pulled back and his teeth gritted in an unbreakable grip. His chest heaved and I thought his lungs might burst right out of him.

    I turned my attention back to his cock as the remnants of his orgasm squeezed themselves out of his body and onto his stomach. I held him until his cock grew soft once more, and then I held it until Brad spoke.

    "Gee-sus, Murphy!" he exclaimed, and he told me everything I needed to know.

    I looked at his face, splattered with cum. It was in his hair and it covered his chest as well. He opened his eyes and looked at me and he ran his tongue around his lips, taking his cum inside himself again. I suddenly wanted to taste him as well. I bent down and ran my tongue over his chest, gathering the cream on it.

    The taste surprised me. It was so different from my own. Sweeter. More mellow. I liked it, and I licked it up. I travelled over his body, lapping up every drop I could find, and then I pulled his cock into my mouth and cleaned that off as well. Even soft, if filled me and pushed against my throat. I stopped when I gagged slightly. That would be something else I would have to get used to.

    Finally, I cleaned his face. Brad let me do it. I licked every part of his face and hair. I lapped up every single drop of semen there was - even the one which had taken refuge in his left nostril. I found it all, and it was all inside me. When I was finished, there wasn't a drop of cum to be found on Brad's body. The rest on the wall and headboard could stay there until later.

    We settled down beside each other and we kissed.

    Before we fell asleep, before I turned out the light, Brad said, "Thank you, Ted."

    "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you," I apologized.

    "If you never do any more than that, it will be more than enough for me." His smile melted me. "This is what I want, Ted. I don't want anything else."

    "It's what I want, too, Brad. I love you."

    "I love you, too."

    I turned out the light and we went to sleep.

    * * * * *

    "Brad!!"

    It was Lindsay. We bolted up in bed as my daughter ran across the floor and jumped onto the bed. She straddled Brad as I tried desperately to keep the sheets in place around our waists. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Then she pulled away, her face crinkled.

    "Eww! You stink!"

    We laughed, and I reached out my arms for Lindsay. She came to me and I hugged and kissed her ‘good morning'. Then I sat her in my lap. Brad took over holding the sheets in place.

    "Sweetheart? I want you to listen to me very carefully, okay?"

    She nodded.

    "Remember what we talked about before? About being gay?"

    Lindsay nodded again.

    "Brad will be sleeping here sometimes from now on, okay? Someday, he might even move in with us to live. When Brad sleeps here, we will close the door. If the door is closed, you can't come in here, okay?"

    "Why?"

    I thought quickly. "Do you know what ‘privacy' is?"

    She nodded. "It's when you want to be alone."

    "Yes, and when the door is closed, I want to be alone with Brad. We want our privacy."

    "Why?"

    "Because, Sweetheart," I tried to explain, "we want to do things that grown-up people do together, but we have to do them alone so no-one can see us. Do you understand?"

    She nodded, but her face turned sad and almost frightened. "Like Mommy and her friends." Tears flowed into her eyes.

    "Lindsay? What's wrong? Why are you crying."

    Her voice was quiet and on the edge of breaking entirely. "If I forget and come in by mistake, will you spank me like Mommy did?"

    I grabbed her in my arms again and held her close. "Oh, no, Sweetheart! I won't ever spank you for that! Never!" When I felt her relax again, I pushed her back so I could look into her eyes. "If you forget and you come in, that's okay. I won't get mad at you. I might be upset and ask you to leave, but I will never, ever spank you. I promise my very best promise, okay?"

    She nodded. "What if I'm scared or something and I want to come in?"

    "You can come in any time, Sweetheart. All you have to knock on the door and wait for me to tell you it's alright to come in, okay? When I'm here alone, I'll keep my door open and you can come in any time you want, but when the door is closed, I want you to knock and wait. I don't want you to see us if we're doing grown-up things."

    "Like Mommy and her friends." She nodded and her smile returned. "Okay, Daddy. I promise. I'll try real hard not to forget."

    "I know you will, Sweetheart." I kissed her and set her on the floor. "Now, go back to your room and wait until I'm dressed, and then I'll fix your breakfast."

    "Okay, Daddy." She did, and she closed the door behind her.

    Brad glanced back at the wall and blushed. "I wonder if she saw that."

    I chuckled, then pulled him in for his own ‘good morning' kiss. "Mop and pail are in the kitchen," I said.

    He laughed.

    "You go grab a shower. I'll grab one later. I have to get Lindsay's breakfast first anyway."

    I rolled out of bed and was about to stand up when Brad said, "Ted?"

    I turned.

    "I. . . you know."

    "I know," I smiled. "I do, too."

    I stood up and started pulling on my clothes as Brad slid out of bed and started dressing as well. "We'll have to get you a robe to keep here."

    "I'll bring mine. I have an older one at home anyway. I'll use that there until Mom buys me a new one."

    * * * * *

    Terry seemed pleased to see Brad there that morning until he kissed me ‘goodbye' at the door as I left for work and said, "See you tonight." I could see her shoulders drop and I could see her heave a rather heavy, disappointed sigh. At first, I felt rather sorry for her, and then I though, "Who am I kidding? He's mine!"

    * * * * *

    Al had been a terrific lawyer since I had retained him years ago for my divorce. He outdid himself this time with The Bitch's trial. He did all the work he could and it was left to me only to sign a few papers and to phone the Crown a few times. A petition for temporary custody was included in the case as well as a petition to cease the child support payments were I to gain custody. I was assured by the Crown that Lindsay would not have to take the stand, but the Judge wanted to speak to her alone in her chambers.

    Miss Craig had already pled to a lesser charge and was placed on probation for two years. She was also to take anger management courses and was barred from babysitting or dealing in any way with minors at least until her probation was finished and she'd successfully completed her courses.

    The Bitch didn't. She wanted her day in court. Somehow, she thought that it was her right as a parent to discipline her child as she felt best.

    Brad came to court and sat in the gallery, as did Bernice. John was understandably absent. Jacob was there, and the Doctor, the arresting Police Officer (the one who had taken my statement at the hospital), and the nurse were there as witnesses. Terry came along just to watch. There were a few other curious visitors, but I didn't know them and I didn't particularly care who they were or why they were there. Lindsay was in another room, being entertained by a young, female court officer who was watching her as she played with a GameBoy.

    Judge Henderson took her place behind the bench and we took our seats. The CA remained standing. "Your Honour, if I may. Mr. de Villiers would like to make a brief statement before we begin the proceedings."

    The Judge nodded and I stood up. Al, my lawyer and friend, stood beside me. "Thank you, Your Honour. I would like you to know that I am in a relationship with this man here." I turned and stretched my hand to indicate Brad, who sat right behind me.

    "Any your point is, Mr. de Villiers?"

    "I thought you should know, Your Honour, in case it might influence your decisions here today concerning the custody portion of my petition."

    "I appreciate your honesty and candor, Mr. de Villiers, but that is irrelevant."

    The Bitch jumped to her feet, slamming her hands on the table. "Like hell it's not relevant! That faggot has no right. . . !"

    The Judge's gavel brought a quick end to her little tirade. "Counsellor! I suggest you keep our client under control!"

    The Bitch's lawyer grabbed her and sat her down, whispering urgently in her ear. Her anger could have fried eggs. She knew I had just pulled the plug on her case before she could use it against me.

    The Judge looked toward Brad. "You. Stand up."

    Brad stood.

    "What's your name?"

    "Bradley Hayes, Your Honour."

    "Middle name?"

    "Nelson."

    "H-A-Y-E-S?"

    "Yes, Your Honour," Brad replied politely. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him.

    "Are you in a relationship with Mr. de Villiers?"

    Brad nodded. "Yes, I am, Your Honour."

    "Do you live with him?"

    "No, Your Honour. I stay overnight occasionally, but we don't live together."

    With a glance toward Bernice, the Judge asked, "Is this your Mother?"

    "Yes," Brad said as Bernice rose unbidden to her feet.

    To Bernice, Judge Henderson asked, "Name, please?"

    "Bernice Mae Hayes, Ma'am, Your Honour."

    "Are you aware of this relationship?"

    "Yes I am, and both my husband and I are very happy for our son." She grasped Brad's arm. "Ted is a good man and we. . ."

    "He's a fuckin' faggot!" The Bitch was on her feet again and screaming. The Judge's gavel was pounding on the desk plate. "They're both a couple of faggots!!"

    More gavel banging, and then Judge Henderson was yelling, "Mrs de Villiers! Sit down and shut up!" The Bitch's lawyer somehow got her quiet and sitting again, but he could see his case going right down the crapper. "One more outburst from you," the Judge continued, "and I'll have you removed from this court and we will proceed without you! Do you understand!?"

    The Bitch wasn't at all pleased, but she said, "Yes, Your Honour." Her voice was quieter, but her face looked like Mount Vesuvius, ready to erupt.

    Judge Henderson returned her attention to Bernice. "Please, continue."

    "As I was saying, Ma'am," and she gave The Bitch a wicked, sideways glance, "Ted is a good man, and both my husband and I trust him completely with our son. Not only do we not have any concerns about their relationship, we encouraged it. We want our son to be happy." And then she lowered her head slightly and a proud smile crossed her lips. "Lindsay calls me ‘Grandma'."

    "Thank you, both. You may sit down." Brad and Bernice did. "As I was saying, Mr. de Villiers. It's completely irrelevant. However, I will be speaking to your daughter about it. I would like to hear how she feels about it. I assume she knows?"

    "Yes, Your Honour. We've been very open with her about it. She knows all about us, but I'm not sure she completely understands yet."

    "She's only nine," the Judge said. "I'm fifty-three and I don't even understand it yet." There was tittering from the gallery. "Thank you, Mr. de Villeirs. You may be seated."

    I sat down again and the case moved forward. The nurse was excused. Her testimony wouldn't be necessary, but she stayed nonetheless. I offered my testimony first, interrupted several times by outbursts from The Bitch, but she shut up when the Judge threatened to cart her off to jail again for contempt if she didn't keep quiet.

    Doctor van Horne testified next, explaining all the photos and X-rays in English which even I could understand. The Officer followed, and then Jacob, who presented his notes and photos as evidence, as well as his eyewitness testimonial statements, all properly notarized and official.

    Wisely, The Bitch's Lawyer decided to keep his client off the stand. With all the evidence and testimony against her, he didn't need her adding even more.

    Court was recessed as the Judge spoke to Lindsay. I was turned around, talking quietly to Brad when the bailiff came in, put his hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear. I stood up and followed him.

    "Where's he going!?" That was The Bitch. Probably screaming at her lawyer. "I should be there, too!"

    The bailiff took me to the Judge's chambers. The court stenographer sat to the side, ready to record every word.

    "Please wait outside," she told the bailiff. He did, and closed the door behind him. Judge Henderson was sitting in a chair in front of her desk. Lindsay sat facing her. An empty chair was set beside Lindsay. The Judge indicated the chair and I sat. Lindsay stood up and crawled up into my lap.

    "That's okay, Mr. de Villiers," the Judge said with a kind smile. "I asked you here because I'd like to see the bruises if they still exist, but I didn't want to do it without you here."

    "Thank you, Your Honour," I said. "Sweetheart, we have to show the Judge where you were hurt, okay? I'll stay right here with you."

    "Okay, Daddy."

    "Don't be afraid."

    "I won't."

    I set her on the floor between my legs and unbuttoned her top. I pushed it off her shoulders and down far enough to see the bruise made by the shoe. I pointed it out and Judge Henderson leaned forward. She grabbed a magnifying glass from the top of her desk and leaned forward again, examining the bruise with her glass. She nodded.

    "How long ago did this happen?"

    "Six days ago, Your Honour."

    She shook her head and made a ‘tsk tsk' sound with her tongue.

    I did up Lindsay's top, then reached around and pulled her pants down enough to show what needed to be seen. "This happened Friday evening, Your Honour. You can still see two marks the remote made, here and here." I pointed and the Judge looked through her glass. "There was another one here, but you can't see it now."

    She sat back again and I pulled up Lindsay's pants straightened her clothes. "There were three marks in the Doctor's report. Are there other bruises as well?"

    "None that can be seen anymore, Your Honour."

    The Judge stood, and I hastened to do so also. Lindsay reached to be picked up. I did. Her arm went around my neck and her head settled against my chest.

    "Thank you, Mr. de Villiers. I'll present my ruling soon. Your daughter may stay with you until I do, but I think it's best if she goes with the Court Officer when I return to the bench." Her eyes told me that I wouldn't want Lindsay in the courtroom, either.

    "Thank you, Your Honour."

    "And, Mr. de Villiers, Lindsay told me all about you and Mr. Hayes. She told me that you prohibit her from entering your bedroom when the bedroom door is closed. Very wise. She also told me that both you and Mr. Hayes are very discrete. She said she's only seen you kiss and hug and hold hands. I believe she understands it at least as well as I do."

    "Thank you, Your Honour."

    "She told me one other thing. She told me about going to the bathroom one night in Mrs. de Villiers' apartment. She discovered Mrs. de Villiers with a man she didn't know on the sofa in the livingroom. Let's just say that clothes weren't necessary for what they were doing. She told me that her Mother yelled at her to go back to her room. She wet the bed that night because she was afraid to go out again and go to the bathroom. She was spanked for wetting the bed as well."

    I was stunned once more and I automatically wrapped my arms tighter around Lindsay and held her closer than before. "I didn't know that. She didn't tell me."

    "I get the impression she was told you'd be angry at her if you found out she wet the bed."

    I could only look down at my daughter and I kissed her hair. "How many lies she tell you, Sweetheart." I kissed her again.

    "I understand you have a custody hearing coming up. I'll see to it that Lindsay doesn't have to testify or even speak to the Judge. The transcripts from my interview will certainly be made available as evidence, and they will most certainly be enough."

    "Thank you, Your Honour."

    She opened the door and I exited. The door closed behind me.

    * * * * *

    Even The Bitch was quiet as the judge ruled on her assault charge. Whatever her lawyer had said to her, he'd been able to do something that I had been unable to do for the past four years.

    Judge Henderson talked for a long time, but one part of it stuck out in my mind:

    "Mrs. de Villiers, you are a despicable human being. How you could cause the damage you did to your own child's body is beyond me. And the damage didn't stop there. You assaulted her mind as well with your poison and your lies, and that is damage which is not so easily mended. If I had my way, I would order the hospital to return your daughter's arm cast to me when it is eventually removed and then I would beat you with it myself until you were just as black and blue as she is. It pains me more to know that you beat her over a make-up case. You put your daughter's arm in a cast, Mrs. de Villiers. Your appearance was more important to you than your own daughter. You can never justify that to me."

    The Bitch went ballistic when the Judge granted temporary custody to me. I was so glad Lindsay wasn't around to hear it or see it. She had cried when I told her that she had to wait in another room, but she went without much protest when Grandma joined her with the Judge's permission.

    The Bitch was taken out in handcuffs long before court was adjourned. Not only would she serve time for abusing my daughter, but she had extra time tagged on for contempt as well. Three times.

    Lindsay was mine - at least until the Family Court made its ruling in November. No more child support would be paid and neither would the alimony as long as The Bitch was serving her time. She would not profit from her horrific actions.

    How much time did she get? Well, let me just say that anyone who buys her a gift for her birthday or for Christmas, or Easter, or Victoria Day, or Canada Day. . . (How many holidays? Go ahead. Guess.) . . . should buy her something very long and skinny.

    Lindsay was brought back into the courtroom to join me. She jumped into my arms and I hugged and kissed her and cried. When I finally let her loose enough to breathe again, she said, "Can I live with you now, Daddy?"

    "Yes, Sweetheart, you can." Then she hugged me and kissed me and cried.

    "Mr. de Villiers?"

    I stood. Al stood beside me, as usual.

    "I wish you all the very best with your family, Sir."

    "Thank you, Your Honour."

    She turned her attention to Al. "Mr. Brent, when is the custody hearing?"

    "November 15th, Your Honour. I'm trying to move it forward."

    "Who is residing?"

    Al checked his notes quickly. "Judge Miles, Your Honour."

    The Judge nodded. "I can help you there. Contact the Clerk next week."

    "Thank you, Your Honour."

    "I'm also issuing a Court Order for you, Mr. de Villiers, to enter your ex-wife's apartment to retrieve your daughter's belongings. With police accompaniment, of course."

    "Does that mean I can get my stuff back, Daddy?"

    "Shh," I whispered.

    "Yes, Lindsay," the Judge said with a smile. "You can take everything if you wish."

    "Thank you, Judge," Lindsay said.

    "You're very welcome."

    Judge Henderson raised her gavel, but I spoke before it dropped. "Excuse me, Your Honour."

    Her nod gave me permission to proceed. "I'd also like to make arrangements to have Mrs. de Villiers remaining items to be packed and stored. I'll pay all the expenses."

    "Why would you want to do that, Mr. de Villiers?"

    I shrugged a shoulder. "She's still Lindsay's Mother. She doesn't deserve to lose everything."

    "Very well," the Judge said. "I'll write a court order to that affect as well. Mr. Brent, when the arrangements are made, contact the Clerk and the courts will see that they are carried out."

    "Yes, Your Honour. Thank you," Al said.

    And, with a bang of the gavel, Lindsay was mine.

    * * * * *

    I took everyone out to the best restaurant in town. Myself, Lindsay, Brad, Bernice, Jacob, Terry, and Al. Part way through lunch, Lindsay climbed into my lap, lay her head against my chest, and fell asleep.

    Back home, Brad went to his house long enough to grab up his bathrobe, more clothes, and some other items he wanted to bring over to keep at my place, including a few toothbrushes, shaving items, and such. He was beginning to make my house his home.

    That night, Lindsay ate dinner with me and Brad. Our first meal as something of a real family. Brad and I slept together that night. We didn't do anything. We just slept together.

    Outside, on the wall, our beer bottles still sat where we'd left them.

    To Be Continued

  45. #145
    HUGS! ;-)
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    Re: Watching Brad

    I'm in! Hook, line, and sinker!! But ... that's been the case since I read the first few paragraphs of Chapter 1!!
    WISDOM is the Knowledge you've gained ... After you could have used it! _Me

  46. #146
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    Yes Kyanimal, me too!!!
    This is a beautiful story & I am enjoying reading it ( with my heart in my mouth sometimes )
    Thanks again Neil
    Peace & Love
    Harry

  47. #147
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    Re: Watching Brad

    WATCHING BRAD
    Part XX

    Brad started painting my. . . our. . . bedroom the next day, on Thursday. I didn't know it, of course, until I got home. The room was a mess. Everything pulled away from the walls and covered in huge sheets of plastic. The bed sat in the middle of the floor. I don't know how he moved it by himself.

    All four walls were taped and primed. The ceiling was supposed to remain unpainted until later, but, with the extra money available to me now, Brad thought I might want to have it done now rather than later. He and Lindsay were busy preparing dinner when I walked in the front door. Shake ‘n Bake chicken. Something easy to start with, and fool-proof directions. Brad was busy peeling potatoes as Lindsay shook up a storm. Short of eating it later, that was her favourite part.

    She ran to me when she saw me and hugged me as best she could without touching my shirt with her ‘yucky' hands. But she made up for the weak hug with a whole lot of kisses. I really didn't mind them.

    Brad didn't hug me, but he gave me a pretty good kiss. It almost reached the same level of tastiness that Lindsay's kisses were at. He smelled good, too. He looked different today, though. He was smiling, as usual, but his clothes were different. At least his T-shirt was. It was solid grey with black specks and skin tight, but it was sliced off about half-way between his belly button and his pecs. He wore his favourite cut-off shorts as well, but they never looked as good as they did right now. It surprised me that he could be just as sexy with clothes on as he did without. There was a whole lot of skin between the two pieces of material, and it looked just as delicious as the Shake ‘n Bake.

    I was trying to remember where I'd put the scissors when Brad said, "Go get changed and grab a beer. Dinner will be in about an hour."

    I stepped up beside him, just so I could smell him again. "I can help here," I said. "I don't mind."

    "I do," he said. "If I'm going to be here, I'm doing my share. Now go change."

    "Okay, but you have to kiss me again."

    He did.

    "Gee-sus, Murphy, Daddy!" Lindsay exclaimed. "Put him down!"

    What else could we do but laugh?

    * * * * *

    Dinner was quite edible, actually, and I quite enjoyed it. Brad beamed when I complimented him. Of course, I had to compliment Lindsay as well. "You did the tastiest shaking I've ever eaten!"

    The three of us did the dishes together.

    "Why don't you buy a dishwasher, Daddy?" Lindsay asked. "It's more fun to do them that way."

    "A lot lazier, too," I said.

    "Well, I'm not going to live here if I have to do dishes every day," she proclaimed. She stood there with her hands on her hips, looking stern and threatening.

    I put my own hands on my own hips and matched her expression. "And just what would you do if there were no such thing as automatic dishwashers?"

    Without missing a beat, she replied, "I'd hire a maid!"

    When dishes were finished, we went out together and bought Lindsay a dishwasher. It was a fair trade for the laugh she gave me.

    We were watching television before Lindsay's bedtime, sitting on the sofa together. Lindsay sat on one side of me, Brad sat on the other, and I had an arm around each of them.

    "Daddy, why does Brad have bigger bumps than you?"

    I looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean, Sweetheart?"

    "Brad's pants have bigger bumps than yours."

    "Well, that happens sometimes when people grow up, Sweetheart. Just like some people are tall and other people are short. Some people are fat and some are thin. Everybody's different."

    She tapped her lip with her finger, a habit that made me cringe each time she did it. "You mean like Mommy's boobies and Mrs. Grange's boobies?"

    "Yes, that's right."

    She put her hands to her chest. "Will I have boobies when I grow up?"

    "Yes, you will."

    "Will they be little like Mommy's or big like Mrs. Grange?"

    "I don't know, Lindsay. We won't know until you grow up."

    She patted her chest, then settled into me again. "Are Brad's things like your things, Daddy?"

    "Yes, they are."

    "Just bigger?"

    "Yup."

    "Oh, okay." And her attention was suddenly back on the television set. She knew what she wanted to know and that was that.

    I glanced over at Brad. I tell you, as cute as he is, he's a whole lot cuter when he's blushing.

    * * * * *

    Lindsay surprised me with a cake she had helped make for Friday's dessert. Grandma did the baking, of course, but Lindsay had done the mixing and all the frosting and decorating. It was barely recognizable as a cake, but man, it was good.

    "It's a party cake," Lindsay had told me when she carried it out from her bedroom.

    "What's the party for?"

    "Because I don't have to go back to Mommy's tonight."

    I was thinking about that and smiling at the thought when the phone rang. I got up to answer it.

    "Hello. . . Oh, hi, Al. It's Friday night. What's the problem? . . . No, I haven't heard anything. . . . You're kidding!? What does that mean!?. . . Al, I. . . ." I started to cry. "I'm sorry, Al. I've got. . . ." I just hung up and fell to the sofa in tears.

    Behind me, I heard a panicked voice screaming, "Brad! Daddy's crying!"

    I jumped up and was around the sofa in a flash, grabbing Lindsay up into my arms and kissing her all over.

    "Daddy! Daddy!" She was crying now, too.

    Brad was there suddenly and I grabbed him in my free arm and kissed him all over as well. He pushed away from me. "Dammit, Ted, what's wrong?"

    "Oh, Sweetheart!" I shouted, and I started kissing Lindsay all over again.

    "Ted!" Brad yelled. "Tell me!" His eyes were full to bursting.

    "It's over, Brad! It's all over!" I kissed them both again. "Oh, God! It's over! She's giving up her rights to Lindsay!" Lindsay needed more kisses, and I gave them to her. "Oh, God, Lindsay. I love you so much, Sweetheart."

    "Daddy, why are you crying?" Her voice was cracking, forcing its way through her tears.

    "Because you never have to go away ever again, Sweetheart?"

    "You mean I can live here forever?"

    "Yes! Oh, God, yes!"

    Lindsay latched onto me from the front. Brad latched onto me from the side. Together, we stood there and we kissed and we hugged and we cried.

    * * * * *

    It would be a few days before everything would become official and finalized, but, after I calmed down again and thought about it, I actually felt sorry for Connie. She was a wonderful person, once, and, when Lindsay was born, there wasn't a better mother in the world. But she had changed so much. Money became the driving force in her life. Money equalled happiness, and nothing would stand in her way to get it. . . not even her daughter. In fact, she had used Lindsay to get it. I could only pity her and hope that her time behind bars would make her realize what money had done to her.

    She knew she was beaten. She knew she was responsible for her own failure. She knew she couldn't use Lindsay against me anymore and she let her go.

    I won't bore you with details. It's not necessary. I will tell you, though, that Connie served her time. Whether or not it did her any good, I don't know. When she was released, she gathered her things from storage and moved somewhere far away from us. I don't even know where. Lindsay never saw her Mother again, and her Mother never saw Lindsay again, either.

    I received a notice from the storage company a week or so after her release and was told that the unit had been virtually emptied, but a few boxes remained. I picked them all up and closed the account. Inside the boxes were almost all the photos and photo albums. Connie had taken only the ones she wanted. She left the rest for Lindsay.

    At the bottom, underneath all the photos and albums, was a beautiful, carved-wood make-up kit. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Written on the paper were only two words: "I'm sorry."

    Perhaps she had learned something after all.

    * * * * *

    After dinner, Brad prepared a bath for Lindsay, wrapped her arm in a plastic bag, then joined me in the livingroom and played at Nintendo. I called everyone who mattered and told them the news. Warren fell apart and Bill had to take over for him. Eventually, Warren pulled himself together enough to get on the extension phone.

    "She's lost everything, Warren," I told him. "She has nothing. Tomorrow, I'm renting a U-Haul and we're going to get every single bit of Lindsay's stuff from the apartment, and I mean everything."

    "Would you like us to come down? I can't do much, but I can watch Lindsay for you."

    "No, Warren, it's okay. Thanks anyway. I think we can manage. We're only bringing her toys and clothes and collections. I'll bring what furniture and things she wants, but that's it. If she doesn't want it, it's staying there."

    "What about photos?" Bill suggested.

    "I already have copies of almost everything. At least the ones I want. Lindsay will take the ones she wants to keep."

    "Don't forget her movies and music and stuff," Warren reminded me.

    "Don't worry, guys," I said. "We've got everything under control."

    "Ding Dong The Bitch is Dead," Warren sang. "Quel domage, eh?"

    "Warren, you've got to quit mixing your French with your English."

    "They say ‘eh' in Quebec!" Then, "Don't they?"

    We laughed.

    "Hey, Teddy?"

    "Yeah?"

    "When I'm all better, do you think you could part with Lindsay for a week? I'd love to have her come stay with us."

    I started to choke up. Warren said ‘when', not ‘if'. "She can stay as long as you can tolerate her."

    "You might never get her back, pal," Bill warned.

    I could see his smirk. "Over my dead body," I retaliated.

    "Say, Teddy, how's Basket Boy doing? Quel beuf!"

    "Just fine, Warren. He's packing it all over the house now. In fact, he's sitting right beside me." Brad looked at me. I said to him, "Warren wants to know how ‘Basket Boy" is doing."

    "I'm taken!" Brad shouted.

    "Teddy, you mean Mr. Home of the Whopper is living with you now? Imagine having that in bed with you every night! Merde!"

    "Gee-sus, Murphy, Warren. Is that all you think about?"

    "No," he said. "Sometimes I think about Bill's hairline - what there is left of it. So, fess up. How wrinkled does he make your sheets?"

    "You certainly have a way with words, buddy," I said. "No, he's not living here. . . yet, but he wrinkles my sheets quite adequately. Thank God for Perma-Press."

    "You lucky bastard, Teddy!" Warren said. "I'll trade ya."

    "Easy there, Warren," Bill said. "I've already got you listed on E-bay. Watch out or you'll end up belonging to some Biker Boy in St. John's."

    "Ooooo. Promises, promises!" Then he whispered, "Teddy, if Brad wants to bid on me, tell him I'll give him the money."

    Bill started singing. "To dre-e-e-eam the impossible dre-e-e-eam. . ."

    That did it. I cracked up. When I finally regained my sanity, I told them both, "Love you guys. Take care, eh?"

    "We will, Teddy," Warren said. "Love you, too."

    "Ditto, buddy," Bill said.

    "Ted?"

    "Yeah, Warren?"

    "Give Lindsay a great, big smooch from me, okay?"

    "Daddy!!"

    "Hang on, Warren. That's her now. She's calling me. My ‘damsel in distress' needs me."

    "I'll go,"Brad said.

    "Tell her Uncle Warren's on the phone."

    "She'll be here in a minute, Warren," I said into the phone.

    "So, Teddy," Warren said mischievously, "is he as big as I imagine?"

    "Warren!" That was from both myself and Bill at the same time.

    I heard footsteps running down the hall. "Here she comes, Warren." I held out the phone to her.

    "Hi, Uncle Warren," she said as I looked at Brad as to her problem.

    "She got the sleeve of her nightgown hung up on her cast," he said, giggling as he sat down beside me again. "It was stuck over her head and she couldn't get it on or off."

    I giggled, too. I could see it happening. "Oh, could you drain the tub, please?"

    "Already done."

    "Bye, Uncle Warren. Bye, Uncle Bill. I love you." She handed me the phone, then curled up in my lap to watch Brad play Nintendo.

    "So, guys," I said into the phone, "I should get going. I've got a few more calls to make."

    "Okay, Teddy," Warren said. "You take care of my niece for me, you hear?"

    "I will, Warren," I said. "Still want me to give Lindsay a kiss for you?"

    "Nah. I already gave her one. But you can give Brad one for me."

    "I can do that. Bye, guys."

    "Bye."

    We hung up.

    I called Jacob next. He was ecstatic to hear the news. I promised to send him a big bonus cheque, but he told me, "Don't bother, Ted. I'll rip up every one you send me. The best bonus you could ever give is one you have already given me. A whole new life ahead of me again. If it wasn't for you. . ." He stopped speaking.

    "Thanks, Jacob, and if it wasn't for you, I might not have Lindsay here with me now."

    "That's my job," he said. "Call me if you need me again."

    "Count on it, Jacob," I said. "Bye for now."

    Bernice and John already knew. We'd all gone over together even before we finished our cake to tell them. Bernice was beside herself and cried almost as much as I had done. When we finally left, Bernice said, "Bradley, you'll come back to visit us from time to time, won't you?"

    Brad laughed. "I don't live there, Mom," he said.

    "Could have fooled me, Son," John said with a wink. "If you need anything, let us know."

    Brad kissed his Mom and Dad. "Love you," he said to both.

    "We love you, too, Bradley," Bernice said. "Now you be a good boy, you hear?"

    "Aw, Mom, you make it sound like I'm going to camp or something."

    "I'm your Mother," she said. "I worry. Just be a good boy."

    "I will, Mom."

    Now, we were sitting on the sofa together. Brad was playing some game with space-aged hovercrafts. Watching the screen made me feel dizzy. It was like that car race game, but this one was a lot faster and had some tracks with square corners. It didn't look easy, but Brad was handling it like a pro.

    "Well, Sweetheart," I said to Lindsay. She still sat on my lap. "I think it's your bedtime."

    "Aw, Daddy, it's Friday and you don't have to go to work tomorrow. Can't I stay up later?"

    "No."

    She looked at Brad. "Brad?" she said.

    Brad held up his hands. "Hey, don't look at me, Lindsay. Your Dad makes the rules. I just follow them."

    She stuck out her tongue at him and he stuck his out at her.

    "Tell you what, Sweetheart," I said. "Tomorrow night, we'll all go out and see that new Disney movie. Then we'll go to Tim Horton's for a treat. How's that?"

    I got a big hug out of that one. And a kiss to boot.

    I didn't have to promise Brad anything to get the same thing later on.

    * * * * *

    Our bed was still in the middle of the room. I didn't care. Brad was in it and it could have been balanced on the top of Mount Everest for all I cared.

    I twirled my finger in the patch of hair between Brad's pecs. "I can't believe this is happening to me." I said in a hush.

    Brad stayed silent. I knew he was waiting for my explanation.

    "Lindsay is all mine now, and so are you. I can't imagine anything else making me feel happier that I am right now."

    "I can't, either," Brad admitted. "I'm still scared, though."

    "Why?"

    I felt Brad shrug more than I saw it. "I don't know. This is what I want. This is what makes me happy. But it still scares me."

    "It scares me, too, Brad."

    He turned his head to look at me and I looked back at him. "Not the same way. I'm afraid of what people are going to think about you."

    "That's my problem, Brad. And I don't really care what people think."

    "What if they think you're a Sugar Daddy or something?"

    I pulled my hand away from his chest and rolled onto my elbow, propping my head in my hand. "First of all, Brad, rich, old men are Sugar Daddies. I'm not all that rich and I'm not all that old. I couldn't afford to have you as my Sugar Baby."

    "But I'm here most of the time," he said. "You feed me and everything."

    "Not everything, Brad," I told him. "I don't buy your clothes. I don't give you an allowance. Sugar Daddies do that."

    "But I don't even have a job except painting your house. I can barely support myself let alone help support this family."

    "Brad, please," I said. "You're in school. You're getting your education so you can do all those things. That's the important thing. That's important to me. I feed you, but you are trying to learn how to cook it. I didn't ask you to do that. You did it all by yourself. You look after Lindsay and you do more than your share keeping the house clean. You even wash all our clothes."

    "I just want to do my share. I don't want anyone to think that you're my Sugar Daddy."

    I paused, touched by his reservations. "Brad," I said quietly. "You can't control what people think. It doesn't matter what you do, or what you say, you can't change what they think."

    "But. . ."

    I kissed him to stop his words. "Don't be afraid for me. At least not for that. I can deal with it." I kissed him again. "I want you to do me a favour."

    His smile returned, and there was that delightful chipped tooth again. "Okay," he said. "What?"

    "Would you jerk off for me?" Brad's eyebrows curled up and his lips spread in a wider smile. I said, "It would make me very happy if you would."

    "You still like watching me?"

    "I hope I never get tired of it."

    "I don't think I can suck myself yet," he said. "I can't bend over that way."

    "That's okay. I like watching you use your hands just as much."

    "Are you going to jerk off with me?"

    "No. I just want to watch you."

    Brad slid up in bed and settled against the headboard. I stayed where I was, my head propped in my hand. I got a birds-eye view of the spectacle in front of me. His hands pushed down at the blankets, uncovering himself. He was already growing, and his practiced hands began their duty. His cock grew quickly under his touch and he began to masturbate. I loved watching him, and my cock was rock solid before his was. I didn't touch it, though.

    Brad's hands were magic on his body. He touched himself the way he liked to be touched, and he did all the things that made him feel good. I watched and I learned. I memorized everything so I could do the same thing to him. There was a lot I wanted to do for Brad, but watching him jerk himself to orgasm was still my favourite. I think it was because he did it so well.

    So, I lay there, watching Brad. I watched as his hands worked their magic. I watched as they stroked him to ultimate release. I watched as his chest and stomach began to heave with each breath. I watched as his balls began to pull up in their sack, and I watched as his cock began to pump out its prize. I didn't watch where it landed this time. I watched only his cock. Spurt after spurt. I watched each one escape, and then I leaned forward and captured the end of his cock in my mouth.

    Brad went rigid, pushing his hips up suddenly and a loud grunt and then a groan escaped him. He hadn't been expecting me to do that.

    I captured the remaining squirts in my mouth and I swallowed him. And still I gathered more. I kept his cock in my mouth until his orgasm stopped, and I held it there long after. As his cock softened within me, I slid my mouth down on it until my throat begged me to stop. I held it there for a long time.

    When I finally released it and leaned back again, Brad kissed me. I could feel the cum on his face rubbing into my skin. I inhaled the smell of it into my nostrils, the taste of it still fresh on my tongue. And then Brad was moving down my body and sucking my own cock into his mouth. He sucked and he bobbed his head. I could feel my cockhead bumping against the back of his mouth.

    My cock found the entrance to his throat and Brad valiantly pushed himself forward. He gagged and pulled away entirely, but he didn't apologize or anything. I could hear him swallowing, and then he was back on my cock again. Once more, I touched his throat and he pushed, but, with a suck of air through his nostrils and a tightening of his throat, he pulled away again and concentrated his efforts on the parts of me that he could handle.

    It was only minutes later that my own orgasm began. Brad didn't move. He held me there, safely in his mouth, and he let it happen. I lay there afterwards, exhausted, for a long time. Brad did, too. And then he released me from his mouth and moved up to settle into my arms. He kissed me and we each shared the tastes we held within each of us. We each said those three little words to each other, and then I turned out the light and we went to sleep, still bathed in Brad's sweet cum.

    To Be Continued

  48. #148
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    Re: Watching Brad

    The story just keeps getting better.

  49. #149
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    Neil, I am nuts about this story! Keep it coming!


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  50. #150
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    Got me, too!!
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